


Checkmate

by Astarisbroughtbacktolife



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alex Rider has PTSD, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Prostitution, He deserves a break, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Sorry, Kidnapping, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Canon Compliant, Pederasty, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The government are awful people, Torture, Whump, alex gets hurt, and what is done about it, everyone fancies alex, he really does, nothing - Freeform, this is getting darker as I write it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2020-06-28 06:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 68,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19806178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astarisbroughtbacktolife/pseuds/Astarisbroughtbacktolife
Summary: Pyotr Anatolievich is a Russian diplomat stationed in Miami. He has just murdered one of the CIA's best and youngest agents.  Alex Rider is recovering after Scorpia Rising in San Francisco, but Joe Byrne needs a solution to his problem and fast - before a war breaks out. His only hope is Alex Rider, however much he hates to admit it."Alex is a child, he is young and vulnerable" said Mrs Jones. Joe Byrne breathed a sigh of relief, at least she was on his side. "but that is exactly why we need him."





	1. One

Pyotr Anatolievich or Peter Anatol as he was known to his american counterparts, was a tall man in his early forties with dyed dark hair, dark eyes and a dark secret. Peter was playing chess; he was very good at it. Consequently, it was his favourite game. It was also his favourite game because it was very useful. Peter found that you could tell the personality of your opponent through chess. You could find out if they were reckless and a risk taker or if they were careful and methodical. You could also tell whether they were scared of him. Peter liked to interview his potential employees over a game of chess. He found it relaxing and so far, no one had beaten him. 

Peter Anatol was a russian diplomat; he was currently stationed near Miami. Peter did not like his job. He found the people, the weather and the alcohol tedious. He did however enjoy the food. The american’s love of fried anything and growing fast-food culture was something Peter would hate to leave behind; Blinis and Ponchiki doughnuts weren’t quite the same as churros and big macs. Though Peter didn’t have any plans to leave just yet. He still had work to do here. 

Peter moved his queen to E5 and took out one of his opponents Pawns. It had been too easy. He studied the man in front of him. Slender, dark haired and blue eyed with a fresh face, he looked like he was just out of school. Peter took out another pawn. A knight. A bishop. 

“You’re very good at this.” stated the young man. 

Peter raised an eyebrow at him, he didn’t like people brown-nosing him. He folded his arms over his chest and sat back in his wicker chair. The pair were sat on the balcony of the house russian government had bought for Peter to reside in. It was a nice house on the coast of Florida, it overlooked the sea and the westerly breeze was adding to the already suffocating June heat. Peter did not like the sun, it made him look pasty. The youth across from him seemed to be enjoying it, however. 

“Where did you say you were from?” he asked politely.

The youth looked puzzled, then he said hesitantly, “Portland.”

Peter nodded and reached for his Kvass, sipping it thoughtfully. He took out a castle. The young man looked slightly apprehensive but returned the favour by removing Peter’s knight from the board.

“What did you say your name was again?” 

The youth answered a little too quickly, “Eli.”

“Are you enjoying the weather, Eli?” he asked, taking out another pawn. 

“Very much.”

Peter nodded again, deep in thought, he stood from the table on the balcony and went inside, pulling the chain which rang the bell floors below them. Eli watched him; he seemed nervous. Peter returned to the table, smiling. 

“Your turn.”

Eli seemed distracted and took out black pawn nearest to him; Peter smiled triumphantly. The door of the room which contained the balcony opened and a woman with square shoulders and a square jaw appeared. She was carrying a gun; she pointed it at Eli. 

“Now now, Amaliya there’s no need for that.” Peter childed. 

Amaliya lowered the gun but didn’t put it away. Eli was looking scared, rising half out of his seat. Peter turned to him. 

“I’m sorry about this, I really am.” he said honestly, “I would have very much liked to keep you.” he reached out and grasped Eli’s jaw before the other man could move, and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “But I’m afraid I can’t have a spy working for me.”

Eli’s eyes widened comically, “I’m not-” he began but Peter laughed across him

“Don’t worry, it’ll be a painless death,” Eli’s pulse was thundering under his fingers, “unless you resist of course, in which case it will be most painful, for you and for me. I shall loathe to see something so beautiful die.”

Eli wrenched his face out of Peter’s hand and charged at Amaliya. It was almost cartoon like, how different they were, how quick it all was. She stopped him easily, as if he were a small child and pushed him back toward the balcony. He was useless against her. 

Peter moved away from the railings and looked away. Eli’s screams were loud, echoing around the quarry he had just been thrown down. They stopped abruptly and Peter closed his eyes. He nodded once at Amaliya and made his way back over the chess board. 

He moved his queen two spaces.

“Checkmate.”

3000 miles away in Presidio Heights, San Francisco Alex Rider was abseiling with his adoptive father, Edward Pleasure. Edward’s wife, Liz had been seeing a family counselor for the past few weeks and he had suggested that to create an inclusive environment, and to help Alex fit in better with the family, they should try new experiences together and bond. Alex did not like the word ‘bond’ for two reasons:  
One, it was always associated a very famous international spy, a character Alex had come to despise and resent and two: it suggested that he was breaking the ties between Sabina’s family and they needed to change so that he could fit in. He didn't want to destroy their family even more than he already had.

Liz had suggested at Alex saw the counselor too, but he hadn't much liked Doctor Thomas Eddington on the few occasions he had met him. Tall, broad, tanned and ruggedly handsome, he was everything Alex wasn’t. Sabina seemed to fancy Thomas a lot. Not that Alex was jealous of this, he’d lost interest in Sabina romantically for a while now. He’d lost interest in everything recently. Alex also had the excuse, that even if he were to tell Dr Eddington about his missions and the trauma of the past year, he’d probably be referred to an asylum within two minutes. 

Alex adjusted the slack on his rope. He’d abseiled plenty of times before. He looked up to see Edward several metres above him, clutching onto his rope for dear life. He called up to him. 

“Mr Pleasure!”

“Call me Edward!”

“Just loosen your grip and walk backwards. It’s perfectly safe”

Edward Pleasure slipped down the rock wall, only the harness stopping him from falling. Alex closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in despair. Mr Pleasure slid down the wall further so he was level with Alex. 

“Put your feet against the wall” Alex instructed, gesturing to his own, “like this.”

Shakily, Mr Pleasure extended his legs until he was perpendicular to the wall. Alex smiled encouragingly, “Very good. Now, do as I do,”

Alex let the rope feed slowly through his hand and stepped backward with his left foot. Mr Pleasure did the same. Ten minutes and three more stops later, they’d reached the bottom where Sabina and Mrs Pleasure were waiting. They divested themselves of the gear and headed over to the women. 

“How’d it go?” asked Mrs Pleasure, who had evidently not being watching her husband’s descent at all. 

“Oh, fine, fine.” said Mr Pleasure who was taking in big gulps of air, “Not too hard.” 

Sabina nugged Alex in the ribs, pointing to a man sat at the food tables a couple of metres away and whispered, 

“I think he’s found it hard, don’t you?”

Alex looked over to see that the man she was pointing at was sitting with his legs crossed tightly, a very obvious problem in the front of his jeans. Alex snorted loudly and Mr and Mrs Pleasure looked up at him, he coughed lamely to cover it up. 

“Well, it’s about time we headed back home,” said Liz “wagon’s roll.”

They filed out of the climbing centre, the two adults in front discussing the next little family bonding activity, Alex and Sabina following more slowly. Once they’d reached the door Sabina looked at him slyly. Sabina was about the same height as Alex now, maybe even a couple of centimetres taller. Alex had put this down to her being a year older. She grinned sidewardly at him, blue eyes sparkling. 

“You know that guy in there? The one at the food court?” she asked 

“You mean the one with the boner?”

She nodded and leaned closer to him, saying quietly “He got that looking at you.”

Alex turned her, confused “You mean-”

“Yup, when you were on the rockwall.”

“Oh,” said Alex simply. “That’s…” he searched for the right word “nice?”

Sabina giggled at him and Alex felt a little foolish. “Oh Alex, if only I had your innocence.”

He looked at her incredulously. 

“Oh you know what I mean.” she said quickly “Honestly, Alex if that guy had gotten a boner looking at me, I’m not sure I’d have even waited for everyone else to leave before-”

“Jesus- Sabina. I do not want to know.”  
She giggled again and then looked up to see his face which he was sure was going red. Evidently, he did bear more than a passing resemblance to a tomato, for she laughed even harder. They reached the car and Sabina controlled herself enough to whisper something to her mother who cackled loudly as she slid into the front of the car. 

Alex shared a look with Edward. He looked as incredulous and he felt. They shrugged at each other and said in unison, the same tone of despair in their voices:

“Women.” 

Joe Byrne and Alan Blunt faced each other over the conference table. Of course, there were others in the room, but the tension in the air between those two was palpable. 

"I'm not doing it, I'm not." 

It was Byrne who had said this, his words had a finality about them which most men would have stepped back from. But not Alan Blunt. 

"My dear chap," he began, though Joe knew that no one on earth was dear to the man across from him, especially himself.  
"I know you don't like the idea and I commend you for it, but the fact of the matter is that it has to be done." 

Joe looked up at Blunt, meeting his pale gaze. Alex was right, Joe thought, this man was grey. Grey hair, eyes, skin, clothes, personality. Joe allowed himself a small smile. He suppressed it and argued back.

"This mission endangers the life and well-being of a child. He'd be directly in harm's way." 

Blunt raised a grey eyebrow. "You had no problem with this at Skeleton Key. Or on Project Ark Angel. Both times you knew the risks, you knew the danger-”

"That was different, Alex was part of a cover for my other two agents. What you're suggesting now is-" 

Blunt cut across him, "dangerous?"

"barbaric!" 

There was silence in the room. The head of NATO turned to look at him and Byrne felt unnerved. He'd never liked that man. He always got the feeling he was being sized up as an opponent whenever he looked at him. 

The head of NATO spoke. 

"Mr Byrne, it seems to me that you have a problem, one which this boy may be able to solve. Personally Blunt, I have little faith in your operative but I'm willing to put him into the field if it means we can avoid dragging my organisation into this mess."

Joe Byrne was shocked. He'd thought the man a bully and a coward, but condoning this! It was a whole new side to his peers he'd never seen. He had to say something.

"The fact remains that Alex- that is, Agent Rider is fifteen; a child. He doesn't even want to work for us, how can you do this to him?" His voice cracked at the end and he looked into the eyes of others around the table. Surely at least one of them had to have a heart. 

"If I may say something Joe," 

He turned to see Mrs Jones, Blunt’s right hand woman standing from her seat at the side of the room. He nodded but she'd already begun. 

"Alex is a child, he is young and vulnerable"

Joe breathed a sigh of relief, at least Mrs Jones was on his side.

"but that is exactly why we need him.” Joe’s blood suddenly felt cold. “He'll be able to go places our other agents can't. He is too young, I'll agree with you there. But so are those in danger, some are even younger than Alex and they're suffering. We need to send him in, Joe. I don't like it anymore than you do but you have to admit, the best chance we’ve got. It's logical." 

Heads around the table were all nodding in agreement and Byrne had to see the reasoning behind the theory. But he didn't like it. He tried one last time. 

"You can't just send a completely innocent young boy into that world, Tulip. You can't just send Alex to suffer in their place." 

Mrs Jones looked at him sadly, but it was Alan Blunt who spoke. His voice was snaplish and cold.

"But he isn't innocent, is he? He's done things that those children haven't. Seen things they haven't. And we didn't ask him to do a lot of those things." 

There was silence and Joe nodded, signing away a boy’s happiness with one single action. He set his jaw. 

"Very well. We send Alex in."


	2. Two

Damian Rohas was a family man. He had a beautiful belgian wife named Marie and three half mexican, half belgian children under fourteen. He would do anything to protect them, he’d sworn that the last time he and Marie had retaken their vows. Retaking their vows had become an almost annual occurrence for them - their marriage hadn’t been able to take the stress of Damian’s job without some hiccups. 

The last hiccup resulting in the renewal of their vows, had come in the form of the collapse of the cartel Rohas belonged to and the entire family being forced to turn themselves over to the police - and the consequent relocation of the Rohas family. The Rohases had moved to Bruges, Belgium. It was a small medieval town, it was cold and rainy most of the time and Rico, Damian’s eldest son at age 13, was suffering with the loss of the sun and a heated pool. But Marie was very happy, she was back in her home country.

The police had let Damian and his family go, in return for information. Damian had given it gladly and he the Rohases had lived peacefully ever since. Until now. 

The night had started off normally: dinner at five thirty in front of the television watching cartoons, taking Ellie to bed at six, opening a bottle of wine at six thirty, sending Tomas to bed an hour later after constant shutdowns of ‘no, you can’t have any wine’ and then watching a movie with Rico. Then, halfway through the movie there had been a knock at the door. Marie had gone to answer, not bothering to pause ‘The Great Gatsby’ and then returned to the living room a minute later, a Desert Eagle pressed forcefully into the side of her head. The hand attached to the gun belonged to a large woman with stringy red hair, a square jaw and at least a foot of height on Marie. 

She was accompanied by a man. He was tall, but smaller than his companion, with dyed black hair. His eyes were dark and they stood out against his pale skin. He wasn’t handsome but nor was he ugly. Memorable was the word that Damian would use when he looked at this man. Memorable and dangerous. Damian knew who this man was, after all it was he Damian had sold out to the police. He looked at the gun pointed at Marie and took a step forward. BANG!

Marie fell to the floor. 

Rico shouted from his left and ran at the woman. She held the gun out in front of her and cocked it, ready to shoot but Damian shouted before she had time to pull the trigger.

“NO!”

The dark haired man held a hand out to stop the woman and she grunted, annoyed. She grabbed Rico and held him fast in her thick arms. The man smiled wolfishly at Damian. He sauntered forward like the dead body of Damian’s wife wasn’t lying on the living room carpet and came to a stop in front of him. 

“Tell me, Rohas” he began quietly, “why should I tell her not to shoot your boy, hm?”

“I-I-”

“Tut tut, Rohas, you’re going to need to do better than that. What can you offer me?”

Damian’s mouth wasn’t working properly. But the man in front of him seemed perfectly content to do all the talking. 

“You sold me out, I had to relocate.” he crooned “You know how difficult that is to explain in my lines of work.” 

Damian still didn’t know what to say. How had he found them?

“Fortunately for you Rohas, I was getting bored of Portland and I have always wanted a trip to Miami. But that doesn’t excuse you does it, hm?”

Damian shook his head. He looked at Marie and became aware that he was crying. 

“So, what are you going to give me which compensates for all that trouble?”

He punctuated the last three words by jabbing his finger into the centre of Damian’s chest in time with each syllable he spoke.

“I- I can get you money if-”

“I’m not sure that will cut it.” The man made his way over to where Rico was being held by the woman. The man lifted a pale hand and caressed Rico’s cheek slowly, he shied away from his touch but was stopped by the red-haired woman before he’d got an inch. “I would be most intrigued however to-”

Damian cut across him “No.”

The man laughed and turned away from Rico. 

“You know, there’s not a lot you can do to stop me from taking what I want. Even if what I want to take is your precious son.”

Damian knew the words which he spoke were true but he would fight for his family, he wasn’t going to let that creepy russian bastard-

Blue lights flashed through the window and sirens sounded - Damian breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, the man saw and he nodded to the woman curtly. There was a sickening crack and Rico fell to the floor. Damian cried out and something hard caught him on the temple. Everything went black. 

Alex loved school. He loved the learning, the comradery, the silent suffering of the teachers, he loved the routine and the normalcy of it. What he didn’t love was Brad Coaches. If you picture the typical high school bully, the typical neanderthal jock type without two brain cells to rub together, well then you’ve got the polar opposite of Brad. Brad was small, weedy and annoying. He had a face like a rodent. Squinty eyes, sticky out ears, a small mouth. Like a rat, no one wanted him around. He was the chairman of the school’s newspaper. Except the school didn’t have a newspaper; it was just Brad’s blog and occasionally some A4 posters covered in WordArt and comic sans stuck to the back of every toilet cubicle door. 

Brad liked to write about everything. Mrs Macy’s divorce, how the gym teacher smelt like cannabis and if Miss Sadie was having an affair with the hot new supply teacher. Brad’s most recent article had been on Alex. 

Apart from basic information on him, the article had included little but wild speculation on where Alex had come from. It asked the question why the Pleasure’s would just adopt a random english school boy and bring him to America. Which then got the school wondering it too. Alex did not much like Brad for this reason. He’d wanted to fit in. Now when he tried to make new friends, the question which would now be at the back of everyone’s mind was where he had come from. 

In typical Alex fashion however, he had managed to laugh it off, and say that the Pleasure’s had been old friends of the family and when his uncle had died, they’d taken him in. This had earned him some pity points he didn’t want but it was better than the rumors at Brooklands. Alex’s name hadn’t been changed on anything but the school database. At school he was Alex Pleasure. It was hard to get used to and at the beginning he hadn’t even realised he was being addressed.

The monday after the weekend of ‘family activities’ Brad caught up to him. 

“Alex!” Brad called in his nasally voice. He didn’t turn.

“Alex!” 

Alex wondered whether if he’d get a detention for punching Brad in the face. Probably not, he decided - most of the staff hated the kid too. 

“Alex!”

A girls voice this time - Sabina. He looked round the corridor for her and spotted her a few metres away. Sadly for him however, Brad was blocking his path. 

“Alex, a word for the Lincoln Post?” 

“Not now Brad.” he sighed wearily, “can I get back to you?”

Brad shook his ratty head. “I’ve got to get an exclusive interview for tonight's edition.” He looked expectantly up at Alex.

“Aren’t all your interviews technically exclusive?” he asked, interestedly. 

Brad blushed. “Well yes, they are but that’s not the point. Please Alex can I just ask you some quick questions?”

Alex gritted his teeth. He looked over at Sabina who was pointing at him and Brad, giggling maddly to one of her friends. 

“Fine.”

Brad’s face lit up like it was Christmas. He brought out a pad of paper and a biro. 

“What is your favourite sport?”

“Football.”

“What team do you support?”

“Chelsea.”

“Who is your favourite player?”

“Danny Drinkwater.”

“What is your middle name?”

Alex paused. “Don’t have one.”

“What was your name before you changed it to Pleasure?”

“I don’t see why you want to know.”

“That’s a strange name.”

“It is what it is.”

“What is it really?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I’m not telling you Brad. If you want to stalk me on google then be my guest, but I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

Brad looked crestfallen. 

“Goodbybe.”

Alex pushed past him and made his way over to Sabina who was still giggling. He leant against the locker, waiting patiently for her to finish. She caught her breath a minute later. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Finished?” he asked, cooly. 

She bit her lip and nodded. She learnt in close and whispered, “Brad totally fancies you.”

“No he doesn’t, I’m just the only fresh thing on the menu.”

Sabina gave him a sly glance, “Mhmm. Sure.” Her face changed to one of panic “Oh Alex, I forgot - I’ve got English with Mr Landsbury next and I haven’t done the assignment.”

Alex knew the direction she was heading in, but refused to concede that early. “Bad luck Sab,” he said mock-sincerely, “you’re just going to have to explain that to him and hope he doesn’t give you a demerit.”

She looked at him, pleading. “Can’t I borrow yours Alex? Please, please, please?”

He laughed, “No, you’re never going to pass english if you keep on stealing my work.”

She glowered at him, “Like I’m ever going to actually need english language. I don’t need to know that fantastic meant imaginary, bully meant lover and pretty meant crafty or whatever.”

Alex shrugged at her. Then, he had an idea. “If you get me out of going paragliding next weekend, you can have it.”

She considered him slowly. “Alright.” she said cautiously. She held out her hand. “Shake on it?”

Alex took her hand and shook it firmly. He handed over his essay on ‘The Origin of Code’ “Make sure you read it before you give it in, you know he asks questions on homework.”

The bell rang.

“I’ll see you at lunch, Alex” Sabina said cheerfully. She made to leave but turned back, stepping close to him. “Be safe.”

She kissed him on the cheek, smiled at him and joined the throng of students heading down the hall. Alex watched her go, she stood out. Dark hair in a sea of blonde. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder and headed to maths. Math he corrected himself. 

Two minutes into the lesson, Alex was called to the main office; a family matter apparently. He packed up his book on trigonometry, stuffed it into his bag and left the classroom. Brad didn’t take his eyes off him. It took him five minutes to reach the office, a feat he was proud of. He was still getting lost in the maze these people called a school. Every corridor looked the same, but Alex thought he’d just about cracked it. 

He reached the office, and slowed when he saw who was waiting there for him. It wasn’t Edward, it wasn’t Liz; instead it was two men in black suits, both tall and broad, earpieces in, hands folded and the unmistakable bulge in the top left corner of their suit jackets. Resisting the urge to run, Alex forced his feet forwards. He looked into the office. The chair was vacant. 

“Who are you?” he asked shrewdly. 

The men shook their heads and pointed to the open door. Alex shook his head, laughing. 

“If you think I’m going anywhere with you, think again.”

The men didn’t smile. The one on the left put his hand inside his jacket and Alex took a step back. He saw the handle of a gun and ran.  
He hadn’t got three feet and there was a bang from behind him. For a wild second he thought he’ been shot. The doors of the school had been flung wide open and three agents with the initials: F B I written on their body armour stormed into the school. They surrounded the men and Alex breathed a sigh of relief. 

A man in a navy suit entered the school as the two men in black were led out in handcuffs. It had all gone too smoothly, Alex thought. Why hadn’t they just shot Alex? Why hadn’t they just forced him outside? Why hadn’t they-

The man in Navy interrupted his thoughts.

“Y’all right, kid?” the man spoke in a heavy southern drawl.

Alex nodded absentmindedly

“You sure?” 

Alex blinked, “Yeah, I’m fine. Who were those guys? What did they want from me?”

The man scratched the back of his head, “You’re English?” he seemed surprised but he continued, “I don’t know kid, you got a rich daddy or something?”

Oh, so this guy didn’t know who he was. Alex shook his head. Then a thought struck him. The receptionist. Alex vaulted over the desk and his worst fears were confirmed. Miss Sadie was sprawled out on the carpet, a dark red stain growing rapidly on her chest. 

“Call an ambulance.” he shouted at the agent. “Quick!”

He pulled her shirt apart, sending buttons flying. There was no time to mess about; he scanned her body - there was a bullet shaped hole just below her liver. Alex spun the seat of the office chair around; not a mark. It hadn’t gone all the way through then, that made things easier. Alex looked around for anything he could use as a towel, but there was nothing. He looked up at the agent who was taking rapidly on the phone. His accent made him difficult to understand and Alex hoped the operator at the other end could tell what he was saying better than himself.

Alex shrugged off his blazer jacket and bundled it up, pressing it firmly against the wound. He cupped Sadie’s head with his hand, her eyes were fluttering. 

“It’s going to be okay, just hold on Miss Sadie. Hang in there.”

Alex had read somewhere that using the name of the injured patient usually helped so he looked frantically around for something with her first name on it. He grabbed the name plaque. Jean. 

“Jean,” her eyes flickered “Jean, there’s an ambulance on the way.” 

He looked up at the agent for confirmation and the man nodded. 

“Just hang in there.” He kept the pressure on her side. His jacket was ruined but that was the least of his worries. Who were those men? And why had they wanted Alex? Blunt had said the threats against him had been neutralised. He looked up at the agent.

“Who were those two men?”

“What? Oh. We got a call saying there were two armed men heading for the school. We were in the area.”

“Who from?” asked Alex, confused. “The call who was it from? And how did they know they were armed? I doubt they had them on display. And-”

“Woah, woah kid, slow down.” the agent interrupted. 

Alex looked up at him. “We’ll sort this all out later okay, get to the bottom of it.”

Alex nodded, but his mind was still racing. He turned back to Jean and checked her condition. She was pale, sweating and bloody but responsive. He brushed the hair back from her face and continued to offer reassuring lines until the medics from the ambulance turned up. 

Alex stood on shaky legs and watched them roll her away, his heart heavy. Another person put in harm's way because of him. The principal, Mr Vardy turned up when the ambulance had left. He looked from Alex to the agent and back to Alex. 

“What’s going on?”

The agent took Mr Vardy’s arm and pulled him to one side. “There was an armed threat to the school. I’m afraid that your receptionist-” he looked up at Alex and he interjected,  
“Jean.”  
“Jean, was injured. Thanks to this boy’s quick thinking however, I think she’ll pull through. There will be a full enquiry into the attack, I’ll find out who they are and why your school was targeted. We’ll put a detail onto the school to make sure this doesn’t happen again. I’ll need to take Mr er-” he looked up at Alex again.  
“Pleasure”  
“Mr Pleasure to the bureau, it seems that he was specifically targeted.”

Mr Vardy blinked open mouthed. “Oh.” he said slowly, “of course, yes. I’ll inform the staff.” he turned and walked back down the corridor. 

Alex was confused. Things weren’t adding up, this whole situation seemed odd. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go with the agent. He’d not even offered his name. The agent gripped Alex’s arm and steered him to the front door. Definitely not right. 

“Hey, Mr Vardy!” Alex called back to him. 

The principal turned, surprised, “Yes, Alex?”

“Will you tell Sabina where I am? She’s in Mr Landsbury’s English class.” 

“Yes my boy, of course.” he turned to leave.

Then as a second thought:  
“And just in case it takes until after school, will you ask her to tell my boss where I am? Tell her to be blunt.”

Mr Vardy looked bewildered. The agents grip grew tighter on his arm. “I doubt it will take that long, Alex. I’m sure it’ll only take an hour or so. But yes, I’ll tell her.”

Alex breathed a sigh or relief and stopped resisting the agent. He was maneuvered toward the door and when Vardy was out of earshot Alex spoke.

“Who are you?” he breathed. 

The agents charade dropped, the southern texan drawl disappeared, “Just walk, kid. Don’t think I missed that message you passed to your girlfriend. It won't do any good.”

Alex’s heart was beating faster and faster. So this man wasn’t FBI; he’d been right. So who was he? He must have been working with the two men in black. What if he was working with the ambulance men as well? Would Jean be okay? He was led out into the sunshine. There was a van parked outside the school gates. Alex almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. The part of his brain which would usually have been too scared to function was working on overdrive, blocking out the fact he was been escorted at gun-point and trying to find a way out. 

“Who do you work for?”

“Shut up.”

He was pushed into the van and he stumbled. The door was shut but the van didn’t move. Sure enough, the two men in black were sat side by side. The three agents who had handcuffed them were there too and to Alex’s amazement - 

“Miss Sadie?”

She smiled at him. It wasn’t a nice smile, it looked like she was looking forward to eating him for dinner. “Thanks for trying to save my life, Alex.”

“But-but you were bleeding - there was so much blood.” How had she faked that? And why? What would have been the purpose for her being ‘shot’? 

Alex looked around and saw red and white stickers. The van was the ambulance. It made sense. Kind of.

“Oh.” he said finally. 

He was pushed onto his knees and one of the men in black held out a needle. The agent took it, holding Alex firmly still. Alex couldn’t fight them all. If he called for help, he’d just be shot; he didn’t struggle as the needle was pushed into his neck. Whatever was in it wouldn’t kill him. More likely it would just knock him out. 

A second later, the van’s interior was swimming and he collapsed to the floor. 

Joe Byrne sat opposite Alan Blunt once again. Neither spoke, but each stared into the other’s eyes, both unwilling to break eye contact. Finally Joe broke the silence. 

“It’s a bad idea. He’ll work it out Alan.”

“He didn’t last time.”

“He’s grown. He’s not as trusting as he was. He’s better now.”

“Better?”

“A better spy.”

There was silence again. 

“He won’t go willingly.” Blunt stated. “He has to think he’s putting people in danger by being there. An abduction from his school is the perfect idea. There are people he cares about there, his foster sister for one. The idea that she might be in harm’s way and he’ll practically volunteer for this mission.”

Joe twisted his fingers in his lap. He didn’t like it. Alex didn’t deserve to be manipulated like this. 

“I don’t get why we can’t just ask him to do it.”

“He’ll say no, and we’d have to get,” Blunt paused, grey features a pale mask, “persuasive.” 

“Persuasive?”

“To get Alex to continue his uncle’s mission, I had to mention his guardian’s visa had run out.” 

Joe gaped at him, “you blackmailed him into this? From the very start he didn’t want to do this?” his voice rose in volume and pitch, “Alan, I thought he volunteered for this! Even then I thought it was awful, but now-”

“Calm down.” Said Blunt, sighing. “Alex finished a mission for us. We were going to leave him alone but then he started searching for his own missions. He can’t help it, it’s in his blood.”

Joe raised an eyebrow and Blunt continued.

“He went to the dentist Byrne, the dentist and managed to stop a mass poisoning. He went to the cinema and stopped a terrorist. We didn’t ask him to go after Cray either. He just went.” Blunt’s voice lowered, “Need I remind you, he also went to Scoripa of his own volition. He attempted to kill my deputy. I haven’t incarcerated him for that, anyone else would be in a maximum security prison”

“But he didn’t shoot the deputy.”

There was silence again. Blunt raised his grey eyebrows. 

“Fine, but know that I don’t like your methods Blunt. And I wouldn’t condone it if Alex wasn’t necessary.”

Alex woke, his head throbbing. It was like a hangover but a hundred times worse. His eyes were dry and he tried to wipe them. His hands wouldn’t move; blearily he realised they were tied behind his back. Damn. There was something in his mouth too, tied around the back of his head. A quick look down and he realised it was his school tie; creative. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. He looked around. The room he was in was small and damp. The floor was made up of broken tile and dirt, the walls were brick, and badly painted white. It had evidently been left to deteriorate over some years. There was a small window to his left, it was fitted with several vertical and horizontal bars but they were new compared to the rest of the room. There was a bulb hanging loose from the ceiling. 

Cliche.

Everything about this was cliche. It was like whoever had kidnapped him had read a dozen spy novels and then created their evil lair. Maybe that was the point, maybe it was a joke. Funny joke, Alex thought. He tested the bonds on his hands, zip ties. That at least wasn’t obvious; in books they used ropes or metal handcuffs, something the goodie could easily get out of. His feet too were tied to the chair legs. 

The door swung open and Alex’s head flicked upward. It was the agent again. But he was dressed much more casually. The navy suit long forgotten, he was dressed in cheap tracksuit trousers and a plain shirt.

“Alex, how are we feeling?” asked the pretend agent. 

Alex couldn’t say anything so he settled for a glare

“Let me introduce myself. My name is Robert.” He paused. “I work for Scorpia.” 

Alex didn’t react. This was getting stranger by the minute. This was not Scorpia’s style. And why would Scorpia want him kidnapped? They’d tried to kill him last time. And wasn’t Scorpia all but destroyed? Alex wanted to say that he didn’t believe the agent - Robert but he couldn’t. 

“I’d like to ask you some questions if that’s okay?”

Alex rolled his eyes. Robert lashed out, striking Alex across his cheek with his the back of his fist. He did know what he was doing then, Alex thought through the pain. If he’d have used his hand open, he would have bruised the back of his hand. 

Robert untied the tie from the back of Alex’s head. Instead of walking back round him, he spun the chair round, jolting Alex uncomfortably. 

“So, Alex I’d like you to tell me where the secret entrance of MI6 is.”

Alex stared at him blankly. What was happening?

“You already know where it is. One of your assassins shot me on the street outside it.”

Robert smiled, but not before Alex detected a falter in his composure. “You are quick aren’t you Alex?”

Alex raised his eyebrows at him. He was no longer scared, just confused. This man wasn’t from Scoripa, that was for sure - so why was he pretending to be? And where was he really from? Alex voiced his concerns.

“You’re not from Scorpia.” Alex said bluntly, “So where are you actually from?”

The world tilted and pain exploded in the back of his head. Robert had pushed the chair over and Alex had landed hard on the tile. His hands were trapped between the floor and his entire body weight and he grimaced. 

“You're a smart kid. Real smart.I like that.”

A wave of nausea passed over Alex, his head was throbbing. He coughed, feeling bile in his throat.

“But it is no concern of yours who I actually represent, only that you answer my questions.”

He grasped Alex’s hair, pulling Alex and the chair to a righted position. 

“Well, if you won’t tell me who you actually work for, I’m not going to tell you where I work.” Alex said plainly. It was risky, but he decided that after all the trouble they’d gone too to kidnap Alex, they wouldn’t kill him. There were worse things than death, of course, but Alex didn’t get the feeling that Robert wanted to hurt him too badly. Again, strange.

“You don’t make the demands here, kid. You shut up and answer my questions.” 

“Which is it then?”

Robert looked confused. Alex continued,

“Shut up or answer questions? I can’t do both.”

This earned him a kick to the stomach. This time, when the chair fell backwards, Alex made sure to raise his head. His hands were crushed once again and he inhaled the gasp which tried to force its way through his lips. Robert delivered another kick to his side and Alex cried out. He wrapped the tie around Alex’s mouth and kicked him again. This time his cry was muffled; Robert smiled. 

“I’ll be back in an hour, kid. If I come back and you’re still making wise cracks, I won’t be so forgiving.” He patted Alex’s cheek and stood, 

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex watched Robert’s feet walk over to the door and leave. He sighed. He didn’t understand what was happening. He reviewed the facts in his mind.

He had been kidnapped.  
He didn’t know by who.  
Whoever they were, they pretended to be Scorpia to appear more threatening. Which meant they knew about Alex’s ties with the organisation. They wanted information but didn’t seem to want to hurt him too much. 

What a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh damn, it got a little long, sorry. 
> 
> I promise the actual story line will appear at some point.


	3. Three

Judging by the light from outside the window, it had been hours since Robert had left. The feeling was slowly ebbing out of Alex’s hands. He shivered. He’d removed his jacket to stem Miss Sadie’s pretend blood flow and was now just in what remained of his school uniform. The cheap material of his shirt did little to battle the cold. The room had no heating and the bars on the window did nothing to stop the wind from entering. 

The door opened slowly and Alex heard rather than saw Robert’s feet coming across the room towards him. He pulled the chair into an upright position, bringing his face close to Alex’s. He pulled the tie out of Alex’s mouth and pushed it down past his chin. 

“So, kid- you’ve had time to think, what’s it going to be?”

Robert’s breath was stale. 

Alex looked him straight in the eye. “Can I have a little longer?” he asked, pleasantly.

Robert’s fist sunk into his stomach. Alex groaned, his body trying to double over but his bonds prevented him from moving more than a few inches. He cursed quietly to himself. 

“Fuccckk.”

Robert’s eyes glinted. 

“Decision kid, now.”

“Fine.” Alex said resignedly, “ask your damn questions.”

Robert smiled triumphantly. “Where is the entrance of the MI6 headquarters?”

Alex gave him a look which said ‘Are you stupid?’ “England.”

A smack to his left cheek.

“London.”

A smack to his right, 

“Central London”

Another smack to his left. Alex felt his lip split and he tasted blood.

Robert thumbed at his injured lip, his hand cupping Alex’s jaw. “And here I was thinking you were going to be cooperative.” he crooned. 

Alex shrugged. “Got that wrong then didn’t you?”

Robert’s hand moved to his back pocket’ he smiled maliciously and brought his hand back in front of Alex. A long switchblade rested in his palm; Alex’s heart began to pound. A second later a loud bang echoed throughout the room. Alex flinched, thinking of gunfire. When he realised he hadn’t been shot he looked toward the door ;it swung open. Five men burst into the room, all in combat gear, all brandishing guns.

“GET ON THE GROUND! PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD AND GET ON THE GROUND! GET ON THE GROUND!”

Robert dropped the knife and then sunk to the floor at the first shout, holding his hands up and beside his head. Alex watched the scene unfurl in front of him. Two of the men locked handcuffs around Robert’s wrists and hauled him to his feet, pushing him out the door. The man who had shouted dropped to his knees and looked up at Alex, concern in his eyes. 

“You okay kid?”

Alex nodded dumbly. How had they found him so quickly? No one at the school would have realised something was wrong until the day after. Had it been his message to Sabina? But Robert had seemed confident that it wouldn’t have done any good. What the fuck was happening?

The man pulled a knife from his boot and cut the ties on Alex’s feet, then moved round to do the same for his wrists. Two other men were checking out the room but what they were looking for Alex had no idea. 

“Come on Kid.”

Alex directed his attention back to the man who had cut him loose. He was holding out a hand to him and Alex took it, pulling himself to his feet. 

“Shake your hands and feet off, it’ll help with circulation.” he said kindly, but Alex was already doing so. “Let’s get out of here.”

He led Alex out the door of his cell and down a plain corridor. There were several doors to the left and right and Alex wondered where and what they opened onto. Alex looked up at the soldier. He considered him slowly. 

The man’s accent was evidently American so Alex guessed he couldn’t have gotten far. “Who are you?” he asked suspiciously. He’d had enough of fake agents for one day. “Army?”

The man gave him a sideways grin, “Naah, Delta Force,” He held out a hand, “B Squadron, Codename Ghost” 

Alex felt his eyebrows raise and shook Ghost’s offered hand, “Delta Force? For me?”

The soldier shrugged at him. “Seems that it’s your lucky day kid. You’ve evidently got friends in high places.”

Alex put a hand on Ghost’s chest to bring him to a stop. The man looked at him inquiringly. 

“There’s something not right about this.” Alex told him. 

“Look, let’s just get out of here and then-”

“No.” Alex said quickly, he wanted to have a good look around before he left. 

Ghost laughed incredulously, “Kid, this is not a request, we’re leaving.” he grabbed Alex’s wrist but he twisted out of it. 

“No, something about this is wrong. It’s so wrong.” Ghost folded his arms across his chest looking bemused but Alex ignored him and ploughed on. “Why go to such elaborate means to kidnap me? It would have been much easier just to do it somewhere else. Robert - or whatever his name actually is said he was from Scorpia.” Ghost’s eyes widened. “ Don’t worry, he obviously wasn’t, this isn’t their style. What’s left of them don’t want me alive, they want me dead.” 

“Scorpia want you dead?” asked Ghost, shocked.

“Yes.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But that begs the question - why would he pretend to be from an organisation he wasn’t apart of? And why didn’t he threaten any permanent damage?”

Ghost’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know, maybe he had qualms about hurting a kid?”

Alex shook his head. “That could be it, but I doubt it. It was as if he’d been told not to rough me like back, it was like -” something clicked in his brain. “It was like RTI training.”

“You’ve been through RTI?” came a voice from down the corridor. The other two men had caught up to them. One was tall and built like a tank, the other was slight and shorter, but both still towered over Alex. It was the taller who had spoken. Alex ignored him.

“How did you know where I was?” He asked Ghost “Who gave you your orders?”

“Our Lieutenant - like always.” 

Alex chewed his lip thoughtfully, irritating the wound and he tasted blood. There was silence. Finally, Ghost spoke. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” 

Alex began to protest but Ghost grabbed his shoulders and frog marched him down the corridor. He called back to the other two soldiers. 

“Gun, Apache - check out the rest of these rooms; see if you can find anything.” he paused.   
“Anything strange; something that maybe doesn’t add up.”

“Thank you.” Alex said genuinely. He knew that it was the squadron’s job to get him free and felt guilty about making it difficult for them. He’d have preferred to look around himself of course, but he was the hostage here, and hostages didn’t investigate.

He let Ghost direct him outside onto what looked like a typical residential street. He turned to see that the building he’d just exited was a normal looking bungalow. There was an army Jeep parked at the end of the drive. The night air was cool on his face and Alex was surprised to see that it was completely dark. He looked at his watch; it should have still been light. He turned to Ghost. 

“Hey, where are we?”

“South Carolina.”

Alex blinked. 

“South Carolina?” he repeated incredulously.

“That’s right,” Ghost said slowly, “Why where were you before you got - y’know - taken?”

“San Francisco. 

Ghost gave a low whistle. 

“Well you ain’t in Kansas anymore Dorothy.”

Alex scowled at him. 

“C’mon kid, get in the Jeep.” 

Alex clambered into the back of the car. Robert, Miss Sadie and the others weren’t in there. The other two must have taken them already. Ghost slid into the driver's seat. He pressed a button on the radio set. 

“Ghost reporting to base. Mission success. Hostage retrieved and relatively unharmed. Medical attention not required. Returning to base. ETA. 0300 hours. Over.”

“Received. Over.”

Ghost turned to look at Alex. 

“So, kid. I know I’m not supposed to ask, but who are you?”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to say.” said Alex, truthfully. 

Ghost seemed to turn this information over in his mind. “How about why Scoripa wants you killed?”

Alex smiled at that. “I definitely can’t tell you that one.”

Ghost grunted. “Fair enough.” He turned back to the front and they sat in silence for several minutes until the other two men appeared from the bungalow. Alex watched as they walked toward the car. The shorter man got into the front, leaving the taller to slide in next to Alex. 

Alex immediately leant forward. “Anything?” he asked, interestedly. 

“Just some notes on a swanky school in San Francisco.” said the man from the front. “A couple of fake ID’s for each of the members of the crew. A list of questions about MI6?”

He posed the last statement as a question looking curiously at Alex. “What have you got to do with MI6? Has this got to do with the RTI?” 

The man next to Alex put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Gun, shut up” he tapped the edge of Ghost’s seat, “C’mon, let’s go.”

The engine roared into life and they pulled out of the drive. 

Alex sat in the corner of the Jeep, hugging his legs to his chest, head resting on his knees. He didn’t understand what was going on; he was tired and hungry and wanted to go home. Not to the Pleasures but to his house in Chelsea, curling up on the sofa watching bad 90’s rom-coms with Jack. He felt tears welling up in his eyes as he thought of her and pressed his eyes into his knees so the military men wouldn’t see him crying. 

They drove for about an hour until the sign posts indicated they were in Cumberland County, North Carolina. Finally Alex decided to speak up. He felt foolish for not asking sooner. 

“Where are we going?” he asked Apache. 

“Fort Bragg, it's a military installation. Our HQ”

Alex nodded. “Right. And where is that?”

“Not far.”

Alex didn’t speak again until they reached a set of electric gates. A young man sat in a booth and he looked up when their car pulled up to the window. 

“Identification?”

Ghost rattled off a bunch of numbers and code words; Alex was only half listening. The gates buzzed open and they drove through. Alex looked around with interest. The fort was made up of dozens of identical houses, each side of the main road symmetrical. There was a statue to his right and he examined it. A tall soldier, stood proudly brandishing gun. The words ‘Green Beret’ enscripted underneath.

They continued up the road and came to a stop outside the main building. Alex assumed it was the main building as it was the largest and the only one which didn’t have an identical counterpart. 

“Where did you take Robert and the others?” he asked Ghost once they’d exited the car. 

“Rex and Charge took them to a secure facility in Tennessee.” he replied, “They’ll be interrogated I expect.” 

Alex nodded, he still didn’t like how things were panning out. 

“Come on, let’s get inside.” Ghost said, throwing an arm around Alex’s shoulders, “You need rest and some kind of cream for those wrists. - which one do you want first?”

Alex considered this. “Rest.”

Ghost chuckled. “C’mon, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. You’re lucky, I’m going to have to fill in all the forms whilst you get a nice kip.”

“To be fair, I have changed into a different time zone.”

“Nope, it’s still unfair.” he said jokingly, ”You’re the one who gets kidnapped and I have to fill in all the paperwork?”

Alex grinned at him, he decided he liked Ghost. 

They entered the building, Ghost swiping his identification card for the door. They entered into a reception looking set up. The man behind the desk was dressed in full military uniform. He looked up when he saw Ghost and Alex. 

“Who’s this?”

“Hostage from the op. They didn’t tell you we were bringing him back here?”

The receptionist tapped some buttons on the keyboard. “Sorry, yeah - sign here.”

Ghost leaned forward and signed the offered paper. 

A door to the right opened up and Ghost directed Alex through it. There were rooms on either side of the corridor, all identical to each other. They all contained a single bed and nothing else. Alex pointed to one as they passed. 

“Do I get one of these? And can I call my- my family so they know I’m safe?”

“We’ll get someone to send an agent around tonight” Ghost said, nodding, “but I expect they’ll want to hear directly from you so you can call after the debrief tomorrow morning.”

Alex nodded, “Thank you”

“As for the room,” Ghost continued, swiping his card to open another door, “you get one of these.”

The rooms on this side of the door were much nicer Alex saw, still with a plain bed in the corner of the room. But they also contained another door, presumably to its own bathroom. The walls were painted too, instead of the cool white of the other rooms, these were painted pale pastel shades. There was a window too and though the image behind the curtains was still and evidently just a picture, it brightened up the room.

Ghost gestured to one of the rooms and held the door further open for Alex. He ducked under the soldier’s arm and entered the room. 

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to lock you in.”

Alex nodded, he’d expected it. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow, there’s a camera in the corner of the room and there’s a panic button on the wall by the bed. We’re never far away so if anything happens, we’ve got you covered, okay kid?”

Alex nodded again. 

“Okay then, goodnight.”

Ghost moved to leave. But Alex called him back,

“Hey, Ghost?”

The soldier turned back, “Yeah Kid?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

The door swung shut and Alex heard the key turn in the lock. He looked round the room, checked the camera’s position and then crawled into bed, tugging the blankets up around him; within seconds he was asleep. 

Ghost locked the door behind him and set off back the way he’d come. He chewed his lip as he walked, deep in thought. He liked that kid; he was intelligent. Ghost himself hadn’t spotted the absurdity of kidnapping him directly from school, but now he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. 

The people they had arrested were strange too, they’d offered very little resistance. And why did they think that the kid would have answers about MI6? Maybe his father worked there, that was likely. His radio cracked into life, interrupting his thoughts.

“Rex to Ghost, come in, over.”

“Ghost here, over.”

“Lieutenant wants us in his office pronto, over”

“Tell him I need to fill in the paperwork for the kid to stay here, over”

“He said to skip it, over.”

Ghost sighed heavily. If he didn’t fill in the correct paperwork on time HR would have his head - Lieutenant Stanley wouldn’t receive any blame. He rubbed his eyes wearily, all he wanted to do was sleep. 

“Ghost?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be there in five.”

Seven minutes later he’d arrived outside Lieutenant Stanley’s office door, he could hear voices from within, the others must already be there. He knocked. 

“Enter.”

He pushed open the door. Gun, Apache, Rex and Charge were already there, standing to attention. Ghost joined them, saluting the Lieutenant sharply. 

“At ease soldiers.”

Lieutenant Stanley looked as tired as Ghost felt, his eyes had deep purple bags and his hair was mussed so his hair stuck up almost ridiculously. 

“The reason I’ve called you here is because of your recent hostage extraction,” he paused, swallowed and brought out a file. “The boy in question is a level 10 priority civilian.” Ghost’s felt his mouth fall open. A level 10? The president was the only other level 10 in the country.   
“You are to forget the events of the past day. You never got the order to rescue him, you never spoke to him, you never even saw him.” he looked at each of them in the eye as he said this. 

In unison they nodded. 

“An agent from secret service will be here in the morning to collect him. The agent is to stay for the debrief. We are not to interfere or investigate anything further into this case. Once the boy has left the site, he no longer exists. You got that?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

The Lieutenant gave them a tired smile. 

“Dismissed.”


	4. Four

Alan Blunt, his deputy and Joe Byrne were sat in a borrowed office at Fort Bragg. It was Joe's last chance to get Alex out of this mess.

Joe decided he rather liked being on the authoritative side of the desk when it came to handling these two. Not that they intimidated him, just that he felt much more comfortable in - well in his comfort zone.

“Alan, this idea of yours,” he began amicably, “are we sure that there is no other way?”

Both agents in front of him opened their mouths to speak but he continued, “I hate to sound like a broken record but I just don’t think-”

“It is not the only way we could go about this,” interrupted Mrs Jones snappishly, “but it is the quickest, fastest and therefore most efficient way of stopping the threat.”

Mrs Jones’ speech sounded practiced and rehearsed. He changed tack.

“Mrs Jones, you had children yourself, how could you send a child to a man like this?”

She pursed her lips like she’d swallowed a lemon. Blunt spoke before she had a chance to reply.

“Need I remind you, Anatolievich is a dangerous, vile, despicable man.” Joe wondered what that made them for sending Alex to him. “He has fingers in so many pies across the world that it is impossible to find somewhere he isn’t involved. We need a solution to the problem.”

“He controls drug cartels,” said Mrs Jones ticking it off on her fingers, “prostitution rings, child labour on plantations, illegal immigration, he harbours criminals - helps them evade law enforcement, murders people, he’s one of the main distributers of ammunition in Mexico, the US and South America, he has several offshore accounts which he uses to syphon money from charities. Worst of all, he’s a sex offender” She looked at him pointedly, “Think of any crime and he’s done it. The problem is proving it.”

Joe pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and sighed. “Yes, I’m painfully aware of why we’re investigating him. But we already have agents in these places, they’re all working to take him down already, why do we need to throw Alex into this mess?”

“I shall repeat this for you Mr Byrne.” Said Mr Blunt slowly, “It is because Alex has the means to get close to Anatolievich. He is the only one who can do it without suspicion.”

“Mr Byrne” began Mrs Jones, “have you ever heard of the russian swallows?”

He shook his head. 

“There was a film made about them I believe; they called them Sparrows,” she continued, “this is incorrect, they were in fact, called Swallows. Female agents trained from a young age to infiltrate organisations by seducing the men working for them. It is an undervalued, underused section of espionage. It was highly effective but eventually shut down because some organisations had problems with the training and morality.”

“Quite right.” interjected Byrne.

“You see, we are not re-opening the programme, merely encouraging some of our agents that pleasure is often an effective weapon. We tell all of our agents this, and as Alex is an agent, this applies to him as well.”

“But he isn’t an agent,” he argued, “and Alex is underage, it’s illegal for him to have sex, even if it were with someone his own age - with consent!”

“Alex is a clever and resourceful boy,” said Blunt, his hand folded, ”he will want to see the mission finished, by any means necessary. He will not do anything he doesn’t believe necessary.”

“Alex feels a loyalty to anyone he sees in danger. As soon as you expose him to Anatolievich’s crimes, he won’t stop until he’s saved them all. He won’t baulk at anything if it means helping them.” Joe shuddered at the thought.

“That’s how we can be sure that this mission will be the last of Anatolievich. He’s going down for his crimes, and even if the mission proves fruitless, then there is a chance we’ll have him on charges of paedophilla and potentially even-”

Joe stood sharply. “That’s your angle?”

They stared at him and he laughed forcefully. “If Alex can’t find any evidence, then send him down for trying to or actually raping a minor. It’s a perfect operation.”

Alex was led back down the same corridor as last night, following a silent agent who hadn’t spoken at all apart from to wake him. He wondered where Ghost was but didn’t much feel like asking the surly man in front of him. 

After a little while of walking, Alex was directed into a room on his right. The walls were white like the hallway but instead of tile, the room was carpeted. There was even a window; a squishy looking sofa was backed against the wall closest to him and a long desk stood in the middle of the room. There was a single chair on the side closest Alex and several decorating the opposite side. 

The lone chair was vacated, whilst four others across from it were already filled. Unfortunately, they were filled by two of Alex’s least favourite people; Mrs Jones and Alan Blunt. Next to Alan Blunt sat Joe Byrne and on Mrs Jones side, a man with a greying beard dressed in full fatigues who Alex didn’t recognise. 

The guard who’d brought him here left, and Alex wandered awkwardly into the room. He’d expected MI6 to turn up of course, he’d been kidnapped. That just didn’t happen without them knowing. 

“Ah, Alex,” said Joe Byrne pleasantly, “sit down.” 

Alex sat. 

“This here,” said Byrne, gesturing at the grey bearded man, “Is Lieutenant Stanley. He runs Fort Bragg.”

Alex nodded comprehensively, “B Squadron’s commander, you gave the orders for my rescue.”

The man looked at him with interest, narrowing his eyes. 

“So what if I did, kid?” he asked shrewdly.

Alex shrugged, “I-” he began but Blunt interrupted.

“Nevermind your questions now, we need to run through the events of the past day and compare our information with yours. Alex, if you’d like to tell us what exactly happened?”

He phrased it as a question and Alex fought down the urge to say ‘no’ but he realised how childish it would be and nodded. 

“On Monday morning” he looked at Lieutenant Stanley and added, “in San Francisco, I walked to school as usual, had my physics lesson, had break” He paused, “I didn’t leave the school building like I usually do - this guy Brad-” he looked up the adults, “it’s not important. Anyway about two minutes in I’m called to the office, and these two guys in black suits are waiting for me, they both had concealed weapons.” He saw the soldier blink in surprise at this detail. “They were both Caucasian, about forty - blonde, about six foot. Anyway one draws his gun and then the doors open and another man in a navy suit comes in - he was African american, dark hair, about thirty, he had a southern accent. Anyway, with him were three armed response guys - from the FBI or at least that what it said on their vests. They arrested the two men in black, handcuffed them and lead them away.”

Alex swallowed. “Go on, Alex.” said Joe Byrne kindly. 

“It was then that I realised that the receptionist, Miss Sadie wasn’t in her chair - She was on the floor behind the desk - she looked like she’d been shot so I tried to stem the blood flow, put pressure on the wound. The guy in the navy suit called an ambulance and paramedics took her away. My headteacher, Mr Vardy turned up a minute after and the agent told him that he’d have to take me away because it looked like I'd been directly targeted.

It was then I thought something might be up - the FBI had turned up rather too quickly and the agent hadn’t told me his name or shown any credentials. Anyway he took me to a van and in it was three men in combat gear and my receptionist. They knocked me out with something and I woke up in the bungalow in South Carolina. The man in the suit called himself Robert. He said he was from Scoripa but I don’t think he was.”

“And why not?” asked Blunt bemusedly. 

“They want me dead,” began Alex, “not captured and tortured for information, they made that pretty clear.” Alex rubbed the bullet scar on his chest, “he also asked me where the location of MI6 headquarters was and they already know that. They kidnapped me from school which is much more difficult than from on the street. It was also like he wasn’t really trying to hurt me - he didn’t inflict any kind of long term injury, he didn’t even threaten me with it.”

As Alex spoke, Joe Byrne looked increasingly more nervous; he wondered why. 

“So,” said an unfamiliar voice, and Alex turned to look at the Lieutenant, “you think something is suspicious because there wasn’t enough...danger?”

Alex nodded simply. 

“Alex,” said Blunt, leaning forward, “I agree with you I don’t think this man was from Scoripa,” Mr Byrne’s head moved sharply to look at Blunt, “I think he is a Scoripa fanatic, someone who admired them and blame you for their downfall.” Mrs Jones nodded along, “you embarrassed Scorpia, but in doing so you angered their admirers. I think they want revenge.”

Alex considered this. “But why kidnap me from school?”

“They do not seem as organised as many of your other enemies. They seem serious, but misguided.”

“So, are they a threat?” Asked Alex nervously. 

“Regrettably Alex” said Mrs Jones, “we believe they are. If we’re correct, they’re part of a much larger organisation. Smaller organisations have banded together unusually through a mutual hatred.”

“So what am I meant to do?” asked Alex, his heart sinking, “Am I going to have to stay away from my school?”

Mrs Jones and Blunt exchanged glances with each other. 

“Actually Alex, we have a proposition-”

“No.” Alex said curtly before she could finish, “No way, No. I’m out, I’m not doing your dirty work for you.”

Lieutenant Stanley looked confused. So he didn’t know who Alex was? 

“Alex, hear us out.”

“NO.”

He got up to leave. 

“Sit down Alex,” said Blunt snappily. “Or do I have to resort to reminding you of certain past events?”

Alex raised an eyebrow and Blunt continued. 

“You willingly seeking out and joining Scoripa?” The Lieutenant gave a little gasp. “You shooting Julius Grief in cold blood?”

“It was self defence!” 

“Was it?”

Alex chewed his lip; doubt flooding his mind. These were the questions that had been swimming round his brain for the past few months. He had joined Scorpia, under false information sure, but he had still enjoyed it when he’d been there. It hadn’t just been hate for MI6 and reverence for his father which had spurred him on. And Julius. He’d been on the floor, unarmed - he’d had Alex’s face. And he’d still shot him. 

The memory of Julius had haunted him over the recent months. That was partly why he’d let his hair grow so long. Julius’ hair had been short and it had disturbed him to see Julius staring back a him whenever he looked in the mirror. He’d broken the glass in the barbours after the woman had revealed her handiwork. Edward had picked the glass out of his hand, apologised to the hairdresser and bandaged his knuckles, promising not to tell Liz or Sabina. From then on, he hadn’t visited a barbour no matter how annoying his hair got.

Alex sat back down. 

“There is a man, Pyotr Anatolievich or Peter Anatol if you like. He is causing Mr Byrne and the CIA here a myriad of problems.”

“Ten thousand problems?” Alex asked, under his breath.

“What was that Alex?” asked Mrs Jones.

He shook his head, “Nothing, school stuff.”

Blunt coughed. “Back to Mr Anatolievich. He is a highly influential Russian diplomat in Miami. He is also the benefactor of many drug cartels in Mexico. He also supplies gangs and civilians with firearms and ammunition, all across the western continents - primarily Latin America, Mexico and the US.”

Alex was expecting him to finish but he continued.

“He finds safe houses for other dangerous criminals and uses his power and influence to control trials and local police forces, he controls over a dozen prostitution rings and encourages child labour on his cannabis production plants. He employs illegal immigrants and pays them little to nothing. He steals from the charities which make him popular. We don’t think he’s working for the russian government in anything but a diplomatic capacity but we’re not sure that they don’t condone his behaviour either.”

Alex sat there in rapt silence. He couldn’t believe one man could be so evil. “And you want to send me in against him? Why me?”

“We have other agents working against his organisation individually of course” said Mrs Jones, “but they’re impossibly organised and we have intelligence that he keeps a log, a diary of sorts in his private quarters, we want you to retrieve the diary, and then get out.”

“So send a more experienced agent in.” said Lieutenant Stanely. 

Alex looked up in surprise, the Lieutenant was defending Alex? He was looking concerned. 

“We tried,” Said Mr Byrne sadly, “Liam Porter. Fresh out of the academy. He was found at the bottom of Bahama Rock Quarry a few weeks ago.” 

Alex gave him a questioning look. 

“He must have been discovered, poor lad. That’s how Anatol likes to kill his less than loyal subjects.”

Alex shuddered. 

“So why me? What can I do that he couldn’t?”

Blunt and Mrs Jones looked at Joe Byrne in sync. The man was sweating. “What Mr Blunt didn’t mention Alex, is that Anatol is a sex offender.”

“Oh.” said Alex, he wasn’t really sure what that meant in regard to the mission.

“He has a preference for young boys, around the ages of thirteen to sixteen.”

Alex felt sick. He was being sent to cosy up to a man who- he began to rise out of his chair once again.

“Now Alex,” Mrs Jones said kindly, “we’re not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do, anything you don’t believe necessary for the success of the mission it is just more likely that Anatolievich will let his guard down around you more easily.”

Alex nodded, it made sense even though he did feel like crying and hiding behind his knees. 

“What happens if I say I won't do it?”

“Then you’ll be condemning thousands of people to lives or misery, hundreds of people will die from the result of gun violence, HIV, drug abuse-”

“Okay I get it.” Alex said quietly, “how would I get...close…to him?”

There was a knock at the door. 

“Perfect timing.” said Blunt, “Enter.”

Alex turned to look at the door and was surprised when he saw who was walking through it. 

“Mr Friend?” he asked incredulously. 

The man smiled when he saw Alex. “Hi, kid.”

He pulled an empty chair from the opposite side of the table and pulled it round to sit next to Alex. 

“Lieutenant Stanley,” said Mrs Jones, “If you would leave us now. The debrief has finished I believe.”

The man looked like he had more to say, that he didn’t really want to leave but he nodded dutifully and rose from the table. 

“Hey, kid,” he said, addressing Alex, “if I don’t see you before you leave...good luck.”

Alex nodded at him amicably, and forced out a small smile. It wasn’t the Lieutenant’s fault what Alex was about to do. He tried not to look to resigned or scared as the man’s eyes searched his face. 

“Thank you. Tell Ghost and the others thank you again will you?”

“Sure thing, kid.” he pushed open the door and left the room. 

Lieutenant Stanley couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just left a rabbit in the centre of a wolf den. The kid looked so young, and these people were using him, carting him off to get close to a sex offender? It was horrible, but he knew that if he tried to complain then he’d be left homeless, jobless, penniless and nameless in the matter of a few hours. He hoped the kid was brave. Running at the enemy with a loaded rifle was one thing, but pretending to be cosy to a maniac like that; not giving himself away, walking straight toward the enemy knowing exactly what was in store for him and not backing away, that was a whole new level.


	5. Five

His ear was pressed firmly to the door. It wasn’t thick, just a standard fire door - the same as every other door in the Fort. The Lieutenant listened closely to the voices inside. If was discovered, if one of the agents that had accompanied the two MI6 officials saw him crouching here- well, his reputation being lost would be the least of his worries.

He stood when he heard the tell-tale sound of a chair being pushed backward, and darted into a small alcove in the corridor. A minute later, the door swung open and Sir David Friend walked out, patting the young boy B Squadron had rescued on the shoulder. 

“I’m really sorry to do this, Alex” he said kindly, and he looked like he meant it, “Please don’t do anything you don’t think is essential-”

Blunt interrupted him, “Stop babying him, Alex knows his duty. He knows what he has to do.”

A small frown formed in the brows of Friend and the CIA man, Byrne. At least those two had a conscience. Stanley had heard everything that the two MI6 officials had said, everything that they’d done, everything they’d been planning - it made him sick. 

“Put those away.” said the woman - Mrs Jones pointedly to Alex.

Stanley peered at the two small bottles that the boy was holding. The label on the side of one read ‘Prozac’ on the other ‘Luvox’. They were designed to look like anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication but Stanley knew what was really in them. It was a genius idea, but it was also inhumane and disgusting. 

Alex pocketed the bottles and wiped his sleeve across his face. He was crying; Stanley’s anger flared and he almost moved toward the boy, he wanted to comfort him. 

The group passed Stanely’s hiding place, only Alex and Blunt noticed his presence. The boy gave him a small, forced smile whilst Alan Blunt gave him a shrewd, calculating look; the Lieutenant grimaced back. They passed without speaking and he breathed a sigh of relief. He should tell someone about this, he knew. But who? No one he knew would have the power or even the motive to do anything about it. 

He decided in a second. He’d tell Ghost, the man had a level head on his shoulders, he was going places that kid. He’d get Ghost’s opinion and advice. Though he was just a Squadron leader, Stanley trusted his judgement implicitly. With any luck, he’d catch B Squadron on a break. 

Ghost traipsed across the wet grass, closely followed by Gun and Charge. The sunny weather they’d been having was gone, replaced by gloomy grey cloud and a spattering downpour of rain. He couldn’t help but think that it matched the mood of the Fort perfectly. Ghost and B Squadron had been based at Fort Bragg for a month now, running procedural drills and attending an interrogation technique course. They’d only taken the hostage rescue mission because they’d been so close. 

They strode across the lawn, weaving in between the buildings. The squad had technically been on a break but a helicopter had landed a few minutes ago and naturally they wanted to find out what was going on. They were the only Squadorn on the base; they’d been selected for an international experiment. One squadron from Delta Force and one Unit from the British SAS were being paired together in the hopes of a ‘better military relationship’. It was a hair-brained scheme of a programme proposed by the British foreign secretary; Ghost did not have high hopes.

They’d not even met the Unit yet but they were already resentful of the other Unit. The Brits were flying over in a month but Delta Force had been sent to complete a rigorous training regime to make sure the American’s were at the very top of their game. Doubtless, the mysterious K-Unit were doing the same. 

“Hey Ghost, wait up!”

Ghost turned around, Rex and Apache were running toward them through the rain. He stopped and waited for the others to catch up.

“Where are you three going?” asked Apache.

“Helicopter,” answered Gun simply, pointing to the aircraft.

“But why? Surely it’s just to take that kid away from here.” 

Ghost shook his head, “It’s too early for that.” he said dismissively, “Mickleson’s only just got back from taking him to the debrief room and the kid still needs medical attention.” he looked around. “C’mon, let's get out of this rain.”

They jogged over to the building next to the helicopter pad and sheltered under a linking roof. Ghost stared at the aircraft. 

“Is that a Friend ‘copter?” he asked Apache

“A what?”

“Friend? As in that big supermarket guy? Look,” he said gesturing to the side of the helicopter where a big letter F was painted, “that’s the symbol isnt it?”

Apache stared at him. “Man, why are you asking me? I know I’m the expert on military aircraft but I have no idea what you’re on about.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “Nevermind, let’s just go and-” he trailed off, looking at three figures exiting the building. One was a woman, with short black hair, a dark suit and a business-like face, next to her was a taller man, with grey hair. He walked with a purposeful stride and had a discerning aristocratic air about him. Trailing after them was a shorter figure, a boy with slightly too long hair, dressed in a dirty school uniform. His shoulders were slumped, as if resigned to his fate. Alex. 

As one, they strode forward. The boy looked up as they crossed the helicopter pad. He looked pale and scared. Ghost wondered what had happened to the boy from earlier. The one who hadn’t seemed even a bit scared when tied to a chair being threatened with a switchblade, the one who had wanted to stay and look for clues, the one who had insisted there had been something wrong and had laughed at his jokes. 

“Hey kid, where are you going?” he asked cheerfully. 

Alex looked at the dark haired woman and the man Ghost now recognised as Sir David Friend and then pointed to the helicopter, “home.”

Ghost raised his eyebrows, “That your dad?”

The boy nodded, but not before he’d paused for long enough from Ghost to wonder whether he was telling the truth. 

“Oh, well..good luck then kid, try not to get kidnapped again, eh?”

Alex gave a forced smile and turned back, walking toward the aircraft. 

Ghost turned to his squadron. “Something isn’t right.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t soldier” said Lieutenant Stanley

They turned in unison and all began talking at once. 

“I-”

“Lieu-”

“We were-”

“Oh shut up, I’m not talking about you,” he said quickly, “frankly nothing is right about this. Rex, Gun, Charge, Apache - you’re dismissed.” The four men looked annoyed but headed back off to the break room giving Ghost and the Lieutenant strange looks. Ghost looked at the Lieutenant inquisitively. 

“What’s going on?”

The Lieutenant gestured to the building next to them, “Come on, let’s get inside. Frankly, I don’t give a damn if I’m breaking a rule telling you, I-” he broke off. Ghost had never seen the Lieutenant looking so worn down. “I-” he began again “let’s just go to my office”

Ghost followed Stanley inside to his office and took a seat opposite the Lieutenant, waiting for him to speak. 

“Ghost-Matt, what I’m going to tell you is-” he sighed, “well, it’s disturbing, illegal, morally barbaric and well just- I’m sorry, I know I should go to a shrink and unload but damn it all to hell, if we’re called in to clean up this mess then I want you to know what is actually going on.”

Ghost blinked. This was most irregular. The Lieutenant was obviously about to tell him something he shouldn’t. Ghost had never seen the man break even one small rule, including the use of civilian names. He nodded, interested. 

“The woman you saw leaving in the helicopter was-”

The door flew open. It crashed against the wall and a man walked calmly into the room. He was about fifty, with grey hair, eyes, suit and skin. He was accompanied by a woman in a black pantsuit. She had close cropped blonde hair and the extent of her muscles were evident under her clothing. 

“Lieutenant,” the man said, cooly, “I hope you weren't just about to tell your soldier about the debriefing you were permitted to attend, despite my better instincts.” 

“So what if was?” asked the Lieutenant brazenly, “What you are doing to that kid is-”

The man cut him off. “Agent,” he said, addressing the woman next to him, “arrest Lieutenant Stanely for breach of contract and intent to divulge restricted confidential information.”

Ghost watched in shock as the woman moved around the desk and tugged the Lieutenant out of his chair and forced his hands in front of him, cuffing them. The pencil he’d been holding fell to the floor. He didn’t struggle but Ghost saw loathing in the man’s eyes as he glared at the grey man. 

“Hey” Ghost protested after he’d gotten over his original surprise, “You can’t arrest him, he hasn’t actually said-”

“Yes,” said the grey man, sighing, “I can.”

Ghost looked at the Lieutenant and the man nodded resignedly. Oh.

The woman walked the Lieutenant out of the room, leaving Ghost and the grey man alone. 

He narrowed his grey-blue eyes at Ghost. “I trust,” said the man sharply, “that you will not tell anyone about this?”

From the man’s tone, he got the impression that the man wasn’t really asking, just stating that Ghost wouldn’t say anything or he’d go the same way as the Lieutenant. 

“What am I meant to tell people then?” he asked, “That the Lieutenant just left?”

The man shrugged at him, “Early retirement?”

“Seriously?”

The man turned on his heel and left the room. Ghost didn’t like him, he was too grey, too formal, too calm. Ghost ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t know what to tell his men. Did he tell them the truth? Or did he tell them the man’s lie? He didn’t know who this man was, but he seemed important. Out of the corner of his eye, Ghost saw a sticky yellow post-it on the seat of the chair where the Lieutenant had been sitting. He walked round the desk and picked it up. He must have written it quickly after the grey man had walked in if the handwriting was anything to go by. His eyes widened as he read it.

MI6. Blunt. Anatolievich. Miami. Get kid out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, chapter five, eh. Exciting. Some new questions have arisen from this one. I may have stolen a small idea from Briarwitched's Malaise story. If you've not read it, do - honestly it's amazing and they're writing a sequel called Dysthyma and it's awesome as well. 
> 
> Sorry it's been a little shorter, but honestly, I'm updating and that's weird enough.


	6. Six

Pytor Anatolievich slept soundly in his four poster bed, a blissful smile disrupting the cold features of his face. He was having a good dream. It involved a small sandy island and enough money to make the Queen of England kneel at his feet. He was also smiling because he’d gone to sleep with the knowledge that a very rich, very powerful man was soon to be in his debt.

The man in question was Sir David Friend. Sir David was a billionaire, a very influential man and close friend of the Prime Minister because of this, he'd naturally had created enemies all over the world. Enemies that wanted to get their hands on his family; there had been four different accounts of blackmail and three attempted kidnappings of Friend’s daughter Fiona and his wife. The Friend’s had gone into protective custody in the UK, with an array of security measures which included armed guards, electric fences and small land mines.

Sir David had called Anatolievich last night however, whispering frantically down the telephone asking for advice. This had been strange, and Anatolievich had checked out the man’s story fully before saying a word. Sir David was not a friend of Anatolievich, he’d never even spoken to him, they lived in different countries, spoke different languages, lived very different kinds of lives; but the two had a mutual friend in Michael J. Roscoe, the american electronics billionaire. Roscoe had talked about Anatolievich - a problem he would deal with later - and Friend had decided on Anatolievich to help him with his problem.

The man had telephoned across the atlantic and, in hurried tones told him of his intel that a corrupt CIA agent was behind one of the attempted kidnappings. He’d explained the theory and it was credible when Anatolievich had Amailya check it out for him. He’d agreed to Friend’s frenzied request. Friend’s son was currently studying in America. He went to boarding school in Washington D.C., it was far from home but it was one of the best high schools in the country and had been the young boy’s dream.

Friend couldn’t fly the boy back to England without fear of the corrupt agent in the CIA stepping in. He couldn’t let them put the boy in protective custody in case it just put him further in harm’s way. He’d asked Anatolievich to house the boy somewhere in America until the British secret service had neutralised the threat. Anatolievich had given him his full assurance, that he’d look after him personally.

Alex was to be escorted by one of Anatolievich's own men from the school to Miami. He would be here tomorrow evening. Anatolievich shifted in his sleep, a small, svelte figure with an obscured face appeared on the island.

Alex hadn’t enjoyed his helicopter ride at all. Sandwiched between Mrs Jones and Sir David, he’d not been able to panic. In a way he was glad, it helped him practice a charade, but if he was honest, he’d rather have been left alone to deal with the information he’d been given in the past few hours.

Sir David’s constant apologies and reassurance didn’t help in the slightest, in fact it just made him feel sick. Alex had finally been dumped in St Albans School in Washington D.C.; an all boys school for sons of billionaires, just like Alex was supposed to be. He wouldn’t be here long, just overnight; he wouldn’t have to talk to any of them thankfully. He’d been given a room, a uniform, a school bag and a set of pyjamas by a matron then was sent off to his room.

The bedroom’s were all the size of the entire downstairs of Alex’s house, all with ornately carved furnishings, with fireplaces and floor to ceiling windows. It was beautiful. Alex sat down on the bed and he sank into it; memory foam. Only the best for these kids, huh. He stripped off his tattered Lincoln High uniform and stepped into the ensuite. He turned the shower temperature up hot and let the water flow over him, relaxing for the first time in 24 hours. He washed his hair and scrubbed his body thoroughly. The school had provided him with toiletries of the highest quality.

He shut off the water, flicking the hair out of his eyes. He stared in the mirror, he looked tired. There was a toothbrush and toothpaste sat in a cup on the side of the sink and he squeezed the toothpaste onto the brush. He wandered back into the bedroom, towelled off and pulled on the pyjamas. They were silk and plum coloured. He returned the brush to the bathroom and got into bed, sliding between the soft linen sheets; he pulled his school bag toward him.

Inside was a spare change of clothes, nothing flashy but an expensive brand and well made, a set of textbooks which looked decidedly unused, a photograph of the Friend family with himself expertly photoshopped in, (Alex wondered when someone had had the time to make it.) a manicure set, a couple of fiction books, a brand new iPhone and a series of small bottles with 'Prozac' and 'Luvox' printed on the labels.

Alex took out the manicure set. It was encased in beautiful leather with the initials AF engraved in silver. He opened it slowly. The first thing he saw was a small sheet of paper, he unfolded it. It was a letter.

 _Alex_ , it read,

_Very sorry to hear about you being sent on another mission dear boy, I had rather hoped that the higher ups had listened to me when I said you needed rest but obviously they have disappointed both of us yet again._

_This mission is a tricky one Alex, I know they've been planning it for a while now but they only told me about this a week ago so I've had to rush to make you this; I'm sure you understand._

_From what I've heard, Anatolievich is a careful, paranoid man so I haven't been allowed to give you much. The iPhone has apps which work exactly like your game boy did during your first mission._ _There's also a code breaking app located on there disguised as 'Tune Me'._

_I've set up some social media for you, so looking through those would probably be a good idea._

_The manicure set is also full of gadgets Alex, the nail clippers and tweezers when twisted become a tension wrench and a rake for lock picking. The blades on the razor can be taken apart and can cut through pretty much anything apart from reinforced steel._

_You've got a nail file which when snapped creates a smoke bomb and the hand cream is a slow acting irritant to your immune system - you could use it to pull a sickie - but don't let me catch you using it for bunking off school when you return._

_There are also two earrings, both with small charges which activate when taken apart and then reattached - be careful with them! Sorry I couldn't be much more use on this one, good luck!_

_Smithers._

_P.S this paper is edible so I suggest you eat it - It's strawberry flavoured!_

Alex smiled at Smithers' antics and smelled the paper, sure enough it smelt like artificial strawberry. He read the letter once more and then tore up the paper, digesting it piece by piece. Alex picked up the tweezers, experimented with twisting it to release the hidden lock picks, then inserted it back into its place. He examined the nail file and the razor in turn and then turned his gaze to the earrings.

One was a light, cool blue colour and Alex guessed it was a coloured diamond. The other was small and silver in the shape of a half moon. Using the mirror on the case, Alex inserted the earrings into the old holes in his ear. They'd slightly sealed up over the past year but Alex pushed the stud through the thin layer of skin anyway.

He flicked through a couple of textbooks: they mostly contained what he'd been studying at Lincoln High. He yawned loudly; he'd not quite gotten over the time difference yet. He stuffed everything back into the satchel, hearing the bottles of pills rattle as he did so. He'd forgotten. He was supposed to take two pills from each bottle with every meal, but he'd missed tea.

Sighing, Alex slipped out of bed and pulled the pills out of the pocket of his Lincoln High uniform and headed into the bathroom. He filled the glass with water and stared at the pills in his hand. MI6 wouldn't know if he didn't take them, they would have no contact with him, what was to stop him just flushing these pills down the toilet. He strode over to it and was just about to drop the medication in but a sudden thought struck him.

Withdrawal. Alex would suffer withdrawal from the pills he'd unwittingly been taking for the past two months and without the proper help and expertise-well Alex didn't want to think about it. He was already feeling a little out of sorts.

Rage flooded through him. MI6 had planned this perfectly, knowing he would try to ditch the pills the first chance he got, they'd made sure that wasn't an option for him if he wanted to come back alive. He kicked the bath and then immediately wished he hadn't. He felt tears of pain and anger fell down his face and he sniffed miserably.

Alex took in a long, shuddering breath and then threw the pills into his mouth, washing them down with water. He placed the glass back onto the sink and headed back to bed. He hated MI6 but he hated the things Anatolievich did more. He curled up and let his tears fall, all of his bottled up emotions from this morning's debrief pouring out. His body shaking, his heart thumping, the drugs circulating his system, he cried himself to sleep.

"SABINA!"

She turned, ready to glare at whoever it was who had interrupted her thinking.

It was Brad; she gave him a hard stare. He was running toward her, his bag swinging wildly by his side, glasses askew, hair rumpled by the wind. He came to a stop a metre from her hiding place beneath the old oak tree in the grounds. It was said to be planted by President Lincoln himself.

"Sabina!" he said, panting, "Have you seen Alex? I want to talk to him."

When she didn't reply he moved closer, "Hey, are you alright? You look like you've been crying."

He was right, she had been crying. Alex had been gone for two days now. They'd had a phone call from an unfeeling agent to say that he was alright but wouldn't be able to call. He was alive and had agreed to do a small favour. Sabina knew, of course, that a 'small favour' was dickhead Special Ops code for 'mission'.

Alex had been getting better, back to his witty, sarcastic self and he'd been whisked away once again before he'd had time to recover. Alex had PTSD, that Sabina was sure of. He had difficulty sleeping and when he finally did get to sleep, he had frequent nightmares. He had been constantly on edge and though Sabina knew Alex thought she didn’t know about the incident at the hairdressers, she had put two and two together.

What Alex needed was counselling, to move past Jack’s death and to properly recover. What he didn’t need was to be flung unceremoniously back into the same world he had just escaped.He’d had a mere two months at school and then - well, Sabina didn't know what he was doing now.

"Sabina?" came a voice from her left.

"Oh, piss off Brad" she snapped, "just leave me alone!"

Instead, he sat down next to her. She glared at him again and he moved a few inches away from her.

"What's wrong?" He asked it with such sincerity that Sabina wanted to tell him everything, but she knew she couldn't. How could Alex bare this? Not letting anyone know the truth? He’d told Sabina, Tom and Jack but that was it. The temptation to tell people was overwhelming. Sabina found it difficult to make new friends when in the presence of Alex, she felt like she was lying by not telling them the truth. She couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Alex to get close to people.

"It's Alex," she said finally "His...previous guardians won custody of him again and-" she felt a sob rising in her throat, "they're absolute bastards."

She wiped away her tears, she knew Brad would probably put this in the Lincoln Post. Tomorrow's comic sans headline would read 'Adoptive sister Sabina Pleasure cries like a little girl as brother is ripped away from family'. To her surprise Brad didn't ask a follow up question like he usually did, but instead put his arm around her.

His arm was bony and stick-like but she was glad of it all the same. They sat there in silence for a while longer, every now and then Sabina's sniffs and hiccups disrupting the quiet. The bell sounded and Sabina got to her feet. She'd missed her third period English lesson, but she didn't much care. She looked at Brad; his weedy face staring up at her.

"Thanks." she said sincerely. He gave her a small smile back. She turned to leave and then remembered why Brad was here in the first place.

"Hey-" she said, getting the boy's attention, "why did you want to talk to Alex?"

He blinked and then recovered, his hand going into his bag. He retrieved a battered looking smartphone. "I was looking into him," he said guiltily "I wanted to find out where he was from. I don't know his real last name so all I had to go on was that he's from London."

Sabina raised an eyebrow "He supports Chelsea,” Brad explained quickly “which means he's got to be local to them and well, I started looking at different schools round there and then I found this."

He held his phone out to her; she looked at it. On the screen there was a picture, screenshotted from an Instagram account named 'Tom_Harris'. The picture was of Alex and a shorter, black haired boy, their arms around each other, both dressed in the same football kit. Alex was holding a First Place football trophy, and surrounded by what looked like the rest of the team. Evidently they had just won a tournament, all of them were caked in mud and all looked very pleased with themselves. Underneath the picture was a caption. "Brookland - 3 - Regent High - 1. Thanks, Alex."

Sabina smiled. The short kid next to him must be Alex’s friend, Tom. She looked up at Brad. She couldn't see the harm in telling him.

"Yeah, that's Alex at his old school." Instead of the frown on Brad's face clearing like she'd expected, the expression deepened.

"What?" she asked impatiently.

"I also found this," he said tapping on his screen, "It's an account for this guy called Alex Friend, he goes to a fancy school in Virginia." He showed her the screen. The account undoubtedly belonged to Alex. It was full of pictures of him playing football, dinners out with his family and birthday posts for his sister Fiona. Sabina stared at it. The last post was from two days ago. The mission at the school in France had been ages ago. Why were MI6 still using the alias? A cold feeling crept its way up Sabina's spine.

Could Alex be using the Alex Friend persona for this 'small favour'? It had to be! She took off at a run.

Her father had interviewed Friend for one of his articles and they’d gotten on well. If she could get ahold of his number...

"Sabina?" called Brad from behind her, "where are you going? Is that Alex? Is that his family? The one you said got custody of him?"

She ignored him. He could guess all he wanted, he was never going to realise the truth. Sabina was going to find Alex and bring him home. And if the CIA or MI6 tried to stop her well, she wasn't going to go down easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0 
> 
> There are so many fics where Sabina is an absolute b i t c h to Alex but that's so out of character in my opinion. So in this, she's going to try everything to get him back 'cause she's awesome like that. I have so many plans. Sorry It's a little short folks. 
> 
> Also what do we think are in those pills? 
> 
> And how long have MI6 and the CIA been planning this operation? Ever since Alex got back from Egypt? Could they be that heartless?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, I'm so happy I'm still invested in the story. 
> 
> Reviews are my motivation. :)


	7. Seven

Alex was woken the next morning by a shrill, tinny ringing. He looked around groggily, searching for his alarm clock. The bell stopped abruptly and Alex sat up, confused. And then it all came flooding back. The mission. Groaning, he flopped backward onto the plush bed and covered his face with a pillow. From outside he could hear the sound of pupils heading down the wooden staircase. There was a knock at the door. 

“New kid,” said a voice from the other side; it was a young boys. “Get up, breakfast in 10.”

Alex heard footsteps move away from his door. He pulled the covers off himself and moved so his legs were dangling over the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes; he’d slept unusually well that night. Stumbling over to the ensuite, he stripped off his shirt and turned the tap on at the sink. He splashed cold water over his face and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. 

He glanced into the mirror. He looked tired, but not overwhelmingly so, his hair was rumpled and untidy and he tried to flatten it down with water. It didn’t have much effect. He examined the scar over his heart. The wound was slowly whitening which the doctor said it meant it was healing nicely. Sighing, Alex walked back into the bedroom and pulled on the new shirt and trousers he’d been supplied with. They were made of high quality material and fit Alex perfectly. The shirt was crisp and white, the trousers a pale grey. The blazer jacket laid out on the bed was black with the schools logo emblazoned on the pocket. 

Alex Friend had a reputation for being a disruptive presence and therefore Alex had to act like it. And personality started with appearance. He rolled the sleeves of the shirt up to his elbows and undid the first two buttons, untucking it from his trousers. He looked at the neatly folded blazer and shrugged it on as well, it was November after all. He pushed the sleeves of that up too, folding the ends of his shirt over the ends of the jacket. The burgundy tie was the only item left. He looked at the clock. He didn’t have time to do it properly. He draped the tie around his neck leaving it undone. 

He glanced in the mirror; he looked good. The only shoes he had were the ones from Lincoln High and he put them on. He guessed that he probably didn’t need his bag for breakfast and retrieved the bottle of pills and iPhone from it, slipping them into his pocket. He ruffled his hair as he walked past the mirror and turned the collar of his blazer up for good measure. He turned his stride into a swagger and pushed open the door. 

Ghost sat in the back of the afternoon’s tactical skills seminar, brooding. The Lieutenant had been replaced by a strict Canadian man named Lieutenant Carmicheal. He was insufferable, he had them running drills and attending seminars all day every day, he obviously wanted them to out-perfrom the British troops. 

“As you can see, the use of grenades in this situation was warranted,” droned the professor dully, “we can, however, observe that this method of aggression would not have been appropriate-”

“So,” whispered Ghost to his squadron, who all looked as bored as he felt, “what do you think Stanley was going to tell me?”

“No idea,” replied Charge in the same hushed tones, “I reckon it was about the kid though. What did you say he said? Disturbing, illegal and morally barbaric?”

“Yeah,” agreed Apache who had, so far being doing the best out of all of them to listen to the seminar but had eventually given up, “he was looking at him at the helipad, he said that it wasn’t right.”

Gun voiced what they were all thinking. “So who is the kid?” 

“He said his father was Sir David Friend.” pointed out Charge and they made noises of agreement. 

“I’m not sure that he is,” said Apache, “ he looked scared to go with them, why would he be scared on his own father?”

Ghost shrugged, “Even rich people have their problems. Besides, why would he lie?”

“I agree,” said Rex, “It explains everything if you know he’s a son of a wealthy family.”

They looked at him inquiringly. 

“It makes sense,” he continued, “the way he knew something was off about the situation, how calm he was. I bet he’d been kidnapped before, that’s why-”

“That’s why he knew it wasn’t Scorpia,” interrupted Ghost, nodding “I bet they’d already kidnapped him; why would they kidnap him twice?”

“He doesn’t act like he’s rich,” said Charge thoughtfully, “all the posh-o’s I've met talk like they’re better than you. The boy seemed...nice - at ease with all of us.”

There was silence as they considered this. 

“Maybe…” said Gun slowly, “maybe he’s been around a lot of military personnel, if he has protection - or a bodyguard, he’ll know what we’re like, he’ll know what we’ve seen, what we’ve been through.”

“That makes sense” nodded Apache. 

“But that doesn’t explain,” said Ghost, bringing the conversation back to its starting point, “what the Lieutenant found so morally corrupt. What is special ops doing to the boy and why is Sir Friend letting it happen to his son? And why-”

“Are you talking through my seminar?” interrupted a voice from the front of the room. They turned round. The lecturer was glaring at them; evidently he had noticed that no one was paying him any attention. 

“Sorry,” said Charge quickly, “we were just discussing the use of the grenades in Serbia.” He patted Apache on the shoulder, “Apache here doesn’t think that the situation justified such heavy use of artillery.”

“No?” said the man, raising his eyebrows at him, “What does Apache think warrants the use of grenades if not three dozen heavily armoured tanks, a hundred armed to the teeth foot soldiers and a royal hostage?”

Apache gulped and looked around for help. When no assistance came he said feebly, “two royal hostages?”

Alex, after some searching, had managed to find the door to the dining hall. All the corridors looked the same, and after awhile he’d given up hope on following the sound of voices; they echoed everywhere. He’d finally found the door labelled breakfast hall and stood outside it, steeling the courage to open it. He was spared this action as the door swung open and a motherly looking woman walked through it. She didn’t spare a second glance for Alex and his untidy appearance, but shouted back down the corridor at him, 

“Get in there; the sausages are getting cold!”

Alex squared his shoulders and swaggered into the room. There were three tables full of boys his and older. There were around 30 in all, most of the students didn’t board there. A lot of the boys looked asian and european and all were dressed tidily. There was a small table full of what looked like the teachers at the front of the room and one of them stood as Alex approached. 

The man was balding, about fifty and was wearing what looked like a dressing gown over his suit. Alex guessed it was probably his robes.

“You must be Alexander Friend,” said the man kindly, offering his hand. Alex shook it. 

“That’s me.” Alex said curtly. 

“I’m Professor Lauton. You’re only here for one morning, aren't you?” He asked, though Alex suspected he wasn’t really supposed to answer, “most irregular,” he continued, “but if you must try out a dozen different schools before settling down then I hope you can convince you to stay at this one.”

“I don’t think that’ll happen.” said Alex, truthfully. The man looked a bit put out, but not angry. A second later, a hand came down hard on his shoulder and Alex flinched, he hadn’t heard anyone else move. 

“Show your elders some respect boy.” came a loud voice from behind him. The owner of the hand on his shoulder spun Alex around to face him. He was much taller and much more mean looking than Professor Lauton. 

“We do not tolerate tardiness or untidiness in this school.” said the man, he roughly tugged the edges of Alex’s collar down. “I suggest you invest in a watch.”

“And I suggest you” said Alex smartly, cringing away from the man, “invest in some mouthwash.”

There was a smattering of laughter from the table of boy’s nearest them but one look from the man in front of him and they quietened immediately. 

“Do you know who I am, boy?” he asked menacingly 

Alex was going to point out that how could he possibly know who the man was - he’d only arrived last night after all, until he saw the badge on the man’s robes. It read HEADMASTER.

“Why?” asked Alex innocently, “Have you forgotten?”

The man looked ready to strike him but Mr Lauton but a hand on his shoulder and gave him a meaningful look. 

“Well, Alexander,” began Mr Lauton but Alex interrupted. 

“Alex”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I prefer to be called Alex,”

“You’ll prefer whatever he calls you Alexander,” said the Headmaster “and you won’t complain.”

“I can and I will.”

“You’re a troublemaker aren’t you?” asked the Headmaster, narrowing his eyes at Alex, “I can tell, you’re one of those. The ones who have a rich daddy so you can think you do what you want? Well, you can’t. I’ve got my eye on you Alexander, I’m not an idiot.”

“You said that with such conviction I almost believed you.”

“Why-”

“Headmaster,” said Professor Lauton calmly, “why don’t you go and sit down, and I’ll have a chat with Alex.”

Surprisingly, the headmaster did just that. He gave Alex a final glare and moved off to sit back down at the teacher’s table. 

“Alex, I’ve seen boys like you before and I know there is always something going on underneath that bad boy charade. If you ever need to talk, my door is always open.”

Alex decided he liked Mr Lauton, but he had to keep up appearances, the boys at the next table were still listening. 

“Well, feel free to shut it.” Alex said patronisingly and walked over to the table of boys, sitting down heavily. He tugged the collar of his blazer back up. The boys all grinned at him. 

The bell rang a second later and Alex looked sadly down at the toast on the table. He grabbed a couple of slices and rose with the other boys. He grinned at them. 

“Hi,” he said “I’m Alex.” he took a bite of his toast. 

“I’m Timothy but everyone calls me Tim” said the boy on his right, “I can’t believe you stood up to old Smythe,”

They headed out into the corridor and up to the first floor landing. 

“Nor can I” chimed in the boy on Alex’s left, he had a definite european accent. “He shouted at me to get a haircut once and I got it all shaved off so it wouldn’t happen again.” He rubbed the short hair on his scalp. “I’m Georges.”

“French?” Alex asked interested. 

“Belgian.” 

“Where are you from?” Asked another boy. 

“You can’t tell?” asked Alex smiling, 

“London.” said Georges, grinning. 

“Hey, new kid!” Alex turned. One of the boys from another table had wandered across to where they stood. 

“What?” retorted Alex annoyed, he could tell that there was going to be trouble. 

The boy’s hair was dyed black and cut short into a buzz cut. Alex would have bet that before coming here, the boy had been at a military school. He had thick, heavy eyebrows which gave away his original hair colour; ginger. He had freckles that covered his face but what really stood out was the skeleton eagle tattoo on his neck; obviously he was the resident psycho. “Aw shucks,” said Tim, “you should probably run.”

“I’m the funny guy around here,” Tattoo said, menacingly, “I’m the one who chat’s back to that dick Smythe. I don’t want you to get the wrong end of the stick and come in here like you think you’re all that.”

Alex rolled his eyes, “I have no stick by any end.”

“You think you can cheek me?” Said Tattoo, “You want to go? You want a fight?”

“What?” asked Alex baffled, “I’m not trying to start anything, I just-” the older boy pushed him backward, and Alex, unprepared, fell over. 

Tattoo and a few other students laughed and Alex got angrily to his feet. “What was that for?” asked Alex, annoyed. He’d dropped his toast. 

“I told you, this school ain’t big enough for both of us.” He went to push him again but this time, Alex was prepared. He took hold of Tatoo’s wrists and used the energy he had created to force the other boy past Alex, into the wall. There was a thud and Tattoo turned, looking angry. He struck out at Alex, who dodged the punch and moved in with a palm strike to Tattoo’s jaw, using his right foot to sweep the other’s legs out from underneath him, sending the boy to the floor.

Alex saw a tall woman heading toward the commotion and recognised her as the woman from earlier he kicked Tattoo in the dick for good measure and the boy howled in pain, rolling around. Alex didn’t have time to move before he had tipped over the edge of the stairway. As if in slow motion he tumbled down the steps and Alex stood, watching him fall.

“MR FRIEND!” shouted the woman, hurrying down the steps. “MY OFFICE NOW!”

She turned Tattoo over from where he had collapsed at the bottom of the stairs and checked him hurriedly. Alex didn’t move. He didn’t know where the woman’s office was. He didn’t even know who she was come to think of it. She helped Tattoo up and glared at Alex. Mr Lauton came jogging along the corridor and put his arm round Tattoo’s shoulders. He exchanged a few short words with the woman and he escorted Tattoo away from the scene.

“Mr Friend,” said the woman, heading back up the stairs to where Alex was standing, “my office, lets go.”

Alex adopted the same swagger as before and followed the woman down the landing to her office. The sign outside read, Ms Dane - DEPUTY HEAD

She held the door open for him and he ducked inside. She sat down behind her desk and Alex slid into the chair opposite. 

“So,” she said angrily, “why did you attack Mr Howard?”

“I didn’t” Alex said hotly, “He came at me, I defended myself. It’s not my fault he rolled around so much and fell-”

“Mr Friend, I clearly saw you kick Mr Howard whilst he was on the floor.”

“He deserved it.” said Alex plainly. 

“Mr Howard does have a certain reputation for violence at this school, however what I saw was definitely not one-sided. Do you have anything to say about your behaviour?”

“Only that I didn’t push him down the stairs, he merely decided to put Newton’s law of universal gravitation to the test”

She raised a thin eyebrow at him but Alex could tell that she was trying to suppress a smile. “I know you’re only here for,” she checked her watch “four more hours, but I hope you can contain your temper until you leave.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Good, now, I would like you to visit Mr Howard with me.”

They arrived at the infirmary ten minutes later to find Tattoo being covered in plasters and ointment by a fussing nurse. He scowled when Alex walked in. 

“Alexander,” said Ms Dane, “what do you say?”

“Sorry” he spat.

“And Matthew?”

“I will not apologise to him!” he all but shouted, “I was raised fight like a gentleman, I-”

“Were you raised to die young too?” asked Alex smugly. 

Matt growled and tried to raise himself out of bed but the nurse pushed him back. “My father has been knighted!”

“So has mine” retorted Alex, shrugging 

“That’ll do I think.” interrupted Ms Dane “ Come along Mr Friend.”

Alex followed Ms Dane out of the infirmary and they walked in silence. 

“I thought I’d tell you that I know why you’re really here” she said kindly, “I’m the one your bosses contacted to let the school know of your arrival.”

Alex blinked, surprised by this information, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve been thrust into this so young,”

“Me too,” said Alex glumly. 

“I’ve got to say though,” she said, pausing in her stride, “you’re rather good at this. I suppose the fight was to keep up Alex Friend’s rebel facade?”

He nodded dutifully. 

“You play it rather too well.” she said, giving him a small smile. She stopped outside a door and knocked. 

“Enter.”

She pushed open the door, a french class was clearly in progress. “Claude, this is Alex Friend, he’s here for a trial day at the school.” The teacher nodded and continued with the class, she turned to Alex, “Here you are, follow Georges around this morning, go to his lessons and see if you feel like you’ll fit in at this school.” she winked at him, patted his shoulder and he entered the classroom. 

“Ah!” said the Professor excitedly, “Bonjour Alex! Je m'appelle Claude”

Alex gave a small wave. “Bonjour Claude.”

“Assis à côté de Georges.”

Alex moved to sit at the empty seat next to Georges. 

“Saved you a seat,” he said, smiling at Alex. 

“Thanks.”

Claude began the class again and Alex sat, relaxing. If he tried hard enough, he forgot why he was here. His stomach gave a rumble and he forgot he hadn’t eaten breakfast. He cursed mentally. It also meant that he hadn’t taken the pills. He pulled them out his pocket and tried to make as little noise as possible. Evidently, he wasn’t quiet enough as Georges looked round. 

“What are they?” he mouthed. 

“Anxiety” Alex mouthed back, shrugging. 

Georges looked surprised but didn’t say anything more. He pulled out a water bottle and slid it over to Alex. 

“Thank you.”

He tossed the pills and water into his mouth and swallowed. He returned the rest of the pills to his pocket and sat back, letting the Professor's words flow over him. 

Alex found the french class pleasingly easy. He already spoke the language and had the excuse of his time at Point Blanc to explain his proficiency. Alex didn’t have any of his textbooks or pens so Georges shared his. 

He followed the boy to history and was surprised how much Georges reminded him of Tom. They would have got on well, Alex thought. Both were small with eclectic personalities. Georges was however, a little shy and unsure of himself at times. Whenever he was asked to answer a question in front of the class he froze and whispered his answer. 

The school had amazing facilities; the history classroom was full of old revolutionary war memorabilia, which was also the topic Alex’s class were learning about. There had been several jokes made by the Professor about Alex and the British, all of which he had responded hotly to. 

“So,” said Professor Yardly “last pop question of the hour. Who followed George Washington as president?”

Several hands flew into the air. Yardly looked round the room, evidently searching for someone without their hand raised. 

“Georges?”

Next to him, the boy stiffened. There was silence in the room as they all looked at Georges. The bell rang, strengthening rather than breaking the tension. 

“Come on, Harrison” said one of the other boys that Alex thought was named Julian,“I’ve got to get to gym.”

“I-”

“Did you know that George Washington was actually British?” asked Alex loudly. 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” asked Julian

“Only that the British weren’t technically defeated by an American. George Washington, a brit was the only one who could defeat the British. Meaning America didn’t really win. And one of the major turning points at Yorktown depended on a Frenchman, the Marquis de Laffayette.” he nudged Georges who gave him a small smile. “The American's were mainly used as cannon fodder.”

“And John Adams,” he continued deliberately, “who succeeded Washington also had a British father.”

The Professor gave him an impressed, approving smile. “Well well Alex, you’ve surprised me. I hope you decided to stay here, you’d do well. Class dismissed!”

As they packed up and filed out of the room Georges gave Alex a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” he said kindly, “why’d you freeze up like that?”

“Anxiety.”

Shit. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Georges ruefully, “Which is why,” he said, his eyebrows raising, “when you want to tell me what those pills are actually for, I’m all ears.”

Damn MI6, why couldn’t they just make the stupid pills in the same shape?

Alex bit his lip. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” said Georges cheerfully, “We need to get to biology, we’re doing CAT scans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so...Is it obvious I'm a Hamilton fan?
> 
> I'm sorry, It's just a topic which people do in school which I happen to know a lot about.


	8. Eight

Alex was in a foul mood. Their teacher, Dr Miles, had told him that his bones were undeveloped and had had more fractures than the San Andreas fault line. Alex had told Mr Miles that his nose would more fractures than Alex’s arm if he didn’t watch out. This had resulted in being sent out into the hallway where he’d remained, bored out of his mind until it was time for maths. 

Alex had sat through an aganosing hour of algebra, counting down the minutes until it was time to leave. The lesson was tedious, but what made it all the more worse was what Alex knew was waiting for him at the end of it. The bell rang and the teacher assigned liberal amounts of homework to the class, berated Alex for his foul language and set them out. 

Georges caught up with him outside the room.

“Hey Alex! Alex.” 

“What?” he asked roughly. His fear of where he was going to was getting to him. 

“Alright mate, calm down,” said Georges, offended, “I was going to walk you out.” 

Alex gave him a puzzled look. “To your car? Your chauffeur's here to take you to the next school.” oh

Georges didn’t even sound remotely impressed the Alex had his own chauffeur, instead he sounded casual as he talked about their shared wealth. Tom, Alex knew would have been ecstatic that someone at their school had a personal driver. 

“Oh, yeah” said Alex distractedy, “that’d be great, thanks.”

Georges pointed left down the corridor and they set off down it. “So Alex, which school you off to look at next?”

Unprepared, Alex stalled for time, “I don’t know, it’s got to be better than this one though.”

“Ha ha,” said Georges sarcastically, “but seriously, which one? You know,” he leaned in close to Alex, “I’ve been kicked out of quite a few schools round here, I can tell you if they’re any good.”

“Err-” Alex searched desperately round in his mind for a suitable name, “Lincoln High.” he said panicking. 

“Oh,” Georges said, downcast, “I don’t think I’ve been to that one.” his expression cleared, “Ah well, nevermind, I’m sure it’ll be lousy. Hey can I add you on Instagram?”

“Sure,” Alex said tonelessly. 

“Cool.”

They walked a few paces in silence as Georges tapped at his phone. 

“Hey man, cool dog! Is that a polish sheepdog?”

Thankful that he had looked over the media accounts last night, Alex grinned back at him, “Yeah, It’s my sister Fiona’s - hey guess what she called it?”

“What?”

“Paul Anka.”

“No way! Like from Gilmore Girls?”

“Jesus Georges, I can’t believe you know that. It’s one thing for Fiona to know that but you! I expected better.”

“Hey, Gilmore Girls is underrated man.”

Alex gave him an unimpressed look. Georges tugged the sleeve of his blazer. “This way, you need to get your bag.”

Alex followed Georges up the stairs to his room. They entered and Georges immediately flopped down onto the bed.

“No way! Your bed is super comfy, how come mine isn’t like this?” he whined

“They like me better obviously.”

Alex grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and walked to the mirror. He mussed up his hair and checked the fastenings of his earrings. 

“You’re a good looking boy Alex.” commented Georges from the bed. 

“You think so?” asked Alex smiling at Georges through the mirror. 

“Yeah, I just love your pout in this picture of you and your sis.” 

Alex turned to look at him, confused. “What?”

“On ‘FifiFriend’s’ Instagram.” 

Alex gave a fake groan and gestured for Georges to bring him the phone. Georges threw him the phone and Alex caught it, looking at the image on the screen. Immediately, he saw he’d gained two new followers. The image Georges had been laughing at was of himself and Fiona Friend in a picture Alex knew had never been taken. Yet here he was, pouting at the camera like a school girl. With horror, he realised that the image of himself was real, but it hadn’t been Fiona he’d taken it with, it had been Sabina. When had someone at the CIA or MI6 had time to photoshop these images? 

How had they known that Alex would be kidnapped and forced to leave his school? Did they have a stock of photographs ready? Or was someone just particularly gifted? He pushed the thought out of his mind and threw the phone back to Georges. 

“I knew I should never have trusted Fi with that photo.”  
“Sucks for you.”

“MMm.”

Alex took his own phone out of his pocket and replaced it in his satchel. He did the same with the bottle of pills, adjusting the textbooks in his bag. When he’d finished, he looked up to see Georges looking at him funnily. 

“So, what are those pills actually for?” he asked, humour gone from his voice. 

“I work for MI6 as a teenage spy and they use these pills to keep me small.” Alex said flatly. 

Georges laughed loudly, throwing his head back against the pillows. “Good one.”

“No, really, I’m actually twenty-eight.”

Georges cackled. “Imagine though, if they were a real thing, how would they even work?”

Alex smiled awkwardly, “I don’t know? I guess some modified version of hormone blockers.”

“Woooow,” said Georges, “that’d be fucked up. Anyway, it’s okay you don’t want to tell me, come on, you should probably get to your car.” He jumped up from the bed and headed for the door. Alex checked his reflection in the mirror one last time and adjusted his collar. Then, with a shout from Georges, followed the other boy out of the room. 

“But dad,” 

“No Sabina, please just stop.”

“But dad, isn’t it just a bit too convenient?” Sabina asked pleadingly

“Yes, I suppose it is,” sighed her father, tiredly, “but I’m not going to bother Sir David Friend about something which is- well not conclusive.”

“But why would they keep up his alias if he didn’t need it?” she demanded, furiously showing him the Instagram account, “look, he’s even got a new follower, not a minute ago.”  
“Sabina, you should really be at school.”  
“Dad, I think Alex is in danger, I think he’s on another mission, and I know he wont have agreed without some form of incentive. They used Jack’s visa the first time round and I don’t think I could bear it if-” she stopped short. She wasn’t sure what she would do if Alex had risked his life because MI6 had threatened her. 

Her father looked at her kindly. He smiled, “Okay, how's this - I’ll talk to your mother and see what she thinks but if there’s more activity on the account I’ll contact David immediately?”

Sabina chewed her lip anxiously, she would have liked him to call him straight away, but this would have to do. She nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

She took the phone back from her father and saw the follower account on ‘Alex Friend’s’ account had risen. The information below his bio now said, ‘followed by Coaches_Brad’. She rolled her eyes at his antics. He’d been smitten with Alex for the past few weeks and had eyes for no one but him. 

Despite the fact that Brad was probably the most annoying person she knew, Sabina found herself strangely moved by the boys earlier actions, he’d seemed oddly, uncharacteristically, unmotivated by hopes of personal gain. 

The chauffeur’s name was Liam, but he was known as Joseph to everyone he worked with professionally. Liam worked for a branch of Anatolievich’s organisation, it was a dull job, just driving people about - but he had three young children to support and it was surprisingly easy. Today, he had been assigned to ferry a kid from Washington D.C. to Miami. It would be boring but safe and hey, he still got paid.

The kid was late however, and Liam had no intention of arriving tardily to the diplomat’s house. He waited, leant against the door of the bently, the hot sun beating down upon him and eventually a blonde kid, with his blazer and shirt arms rolled, tie undone and hair a mess exited the school. He was accompanied by a shorter boy who was dressed neatly, but bouncing around excitedly. 

Liam immediately identified the blonde kid as Alex Friend, the son of the wealthy Sir David Friend. He looked unruly, and like he enjoyed causing havoc. Liam did not like people like Alex for he set great store by rules and guidelines and didn’t see why people insisted on breaking them. 

The two boys neared the car and Liam opened the passenger door for the boy. Alex flicked his chin at Liam in greeting and whispered something to his friend and the shorter boy laughed. 

“Well, bye Georges,” said Alex, giving the other boy a small wave. 

“See you around. I hope you choose this school, we’d make a great couple.”

“Take Professor Lauton by storm.”

“Good afternoon Sir,” said Liam smartly, interrupting the two boys, “My name is Joseph and I will be your driver for the day.”

Alex grinned, “I can’t believe you didn’t meet me in a chariot of gold. And where is your dreamcoat? Come on man, you’re holding out on me.”

The other boy sniggered loudly and gave Alex an obvious wink. 

“Bye!” Alex called stepping into the car. 

The other boy waved in return and Liam closed the door on Alex. He moved round to the other side of the car and slid into the driver's seat. 

“Hello.” came a voice from the back, “I’m Alex.”

Liam turned round. The people he escorted didn’t usually make conversation. He gave the kid a once over. Now that he was away from the other boy - Georges, he had lost the cool, calm, confident demeanor, the swagger was gone and now the boy looked anxious and exhausted. 

“Nice to meet you.”

Alex nodded. Liam put the car into gear and set off from the school. 

The trip was uneventful, Alex was quiet in the back seat and the roads were relatively quiet this time of day. Liam checked the rearview mirror once or twice and saw Alex, headphones in, eyes closed. He looked much younger, his eyes were what aged him. By the time they had stopped for lunch in Richmond, Alex looked pale and a little green. 

“You carsick?” he asked, concerned. 

“Mm? Oh, no just nervous y’know.”

“What for?” asked Liam confused, he’d been told Alex knew his employer. 

Alex gave him an odd look. “No reason.” he said after a while. 

“Come on, I’m meant to buy you lunch, what’d you want?”

Alex shrugged, “I don’t feel like eating, sorry.”

Liam really wasn’t sure what to make of the kid. The tough guy vibe which his outfit gave was nowhere to be seen in his mannerisms. The kid walked timidly, head down and his fingers twisted in his clothing. Everytime a horn beeped, he would flinch and as they crossed the road to get to the cafe he glanced around more than was necessary, looking up at the building’s across the street. 

“Well, I do,” he said confidently, he pushed open the door of the cafe, “can I get you a drink then?”

Alex nodded, “a coke?”

“You got it, go find us a table?”

Liam ordered a coffee, a coke and a ham sandwich and then sat down opposite Alex. They sat in silence, Alex staring out of the window at the street.

“So, are you looking forward to staying with Mr Anatolievich?

“Why would I be looking forward to it?”

Liam shrugged, “I was told he was your godfather and you’d never met him before, but I’m starting to wonder if that is actually what is going on here.”

Alex snorted lightly, “No, it’s not. And I’m not meant to say that, but honestly, I don’t care at the moment.”

Liam processed this. He was used to being kept in the dark - it came with the job, but seeing the pale, scared look on this kids face was enough to make Liam curious. The waitress brought the drinks and sandwich and Liam chewed on his food thoughtfully, watching the boy across from him. 

Alex poured out his coke and sipped it. 

“I’d ask what is actually going on, but it would probably cost me my job.” Liam stated

Alex nodded, disinterestedly “Probably would, yeah.” he agreed calmly. 

Liam watched as the boy dug in his stachel and brought out a bottle. He shook out two round pills and returned the others to the bag. He caught Liam watching him. 

“Definitely don’t ask about this.” he said firmly and swallowed the pills, washing them down with coke. 

They sat in complete silence for the remainder of Liam’s meal. It was only as they left the cafe when Alex spoke. “Do you think this place has a library?” 

Liam blinked, surprised, “Yeah, I reckon so, I mean, doesn’t every city?”

“Can we go to it?” 

“I’m not sure, my-”

“Please, I know we’re only meant to be there at,” he checked his phone, “Five?”

“Nice try kid, it’s half five for your information, but you didn’t know that.”

“Come on, please. I’ll let you choose whatever music you’d like for the rest of the journey.”

Liam pondered this, it would make things much more interesting, and it wouldn’t affect their arrival time. “Alright, but please don’t tell Mr Anatolievich.”

Alex grinned, and suddenly he was transformed from scared little boy into excited child in a sweetshop. “Thanks.”

Alex entered the library alone, having told Joseph to bring the car around, he’d only be two minutes. Alex had had time to think whilst being in the car. Mainly about how convenient the timing had been for him to be kidnapped and how weird it had been. It had been like the sniper at Brooklands a few months ago too. There had been a threat at his school, and Alex would be putting people in danger if he stayed and therefore he had left. It was all too simple to happen twice.

He’d made up his mind, he was going to try contact Sabina. He strode into the library, searching for a computer. He found an empty one and slid into the seat. He opened up google, searched for instagram, created a new account and logged in. 

He opened up a direct message and typed. 

Hi Brad, Danny Drinkwater here. I’m very good at passing things on to other players on my team and I bet you are too. 

Because my life is pretty blunt, my leaving was unexpectedly due to a fantastic cause. I am well, but am visiting a friend of a Friend. He has a lot in common with the guy we both met on the plane - the one who knew my dad. They’re pretty similar, except this one will want to bully me and I don’t want to let that happen. 

Your dad’s job might come in handy and there’s a chance I won’t have to let him bully me, at least, not for long. Don’t do anything you think I would do. 

He logged off a second after he saw it had been delivered and made his way out of the library to where Joseph was waiting. 

Let’s go.” he said, putting on a smile. Joseph looked perplexed but opened the door to the car for Alex anyway.

“Mr Anatolievich awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 12am and I honestly can't be bothered to delete the gaps between the lines, sorry, I know they're huge. 
> 
> Okay, so yes before anyone says - I know it takes much longer to get from Washington D.C to Miami but I didn't check before I wrote this and it was a terrible mistake but please please try and overlook it as much as you can. The timings are actually about right from Washington to Richmond but it takes waay longer than 3 hours to get to Miami from Richmond.
> 
> Also yay! We finally know what's in the pills - and honestly I did some research and freaked myself out by learning that its not actually that far fetched, granted you'd probably need an injection rather than a pill but oh my God science is scary and amazing.
> 
> And yay again for the coded message in the DM - you can probably work it out by going back a few chapters, or you can just wait for Sabina to figure it out.
> 
> I promise Alex will meet Anatolievich in the next chapter btw.
> 
> Reviews are life and motivation


	9. Nine

The black bentley pulled up outside the gates at a quarter past five. It remained there for a few moments whilst the driver exchanged words with the armed guard and then continued up the drive, finally coming to a stop outside the front door.

Anatolievich watched from the first floor window as the chauffeur got out of the car. He couldn’t remember his name exactly, he had people who sorted the hiring out for him, but Anatolievich thought the man’s name might have been something like Jacob. 

Jacob moved round to the other side of the car and opened the rear door. Anatolievich’s breath hitched in anticipation. A second later a foot stepped out, followed by an ankle, the other foot, and then slender legs clothed in grey trousers. Then, the owner of the legs stood, raising his face to look up at the great house. 

Unconsciously, Anatolievich licked his lips. Though he couldn’t make out the finer features of the boys face, he could tell that he was handsome. It was the way he carried himself, calm, collected, with a uniform obviously designed to attract attention. 

The boys blazer sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the collar flipped up to his neck, the tips of the boy’s slightly long hair brushing the top. His dark tie was undone, draped round his neck, a contrast to his rumpled white shirt. The shirt was untucked from his trousers, in which the boys hands were tucked into the pockets. 

The driver shook the boy’s hand and they spoke a few words. Whatever the boy said made Jacob laugh hard, throwing his head back, clapping the boy on the shoulder. Anatolievich smiled wolfishly. He turned away from the window and gestured at Amiliya to come closer. 

“Sir?” 

“Go and greet our guest please,” he said, not meaning the please at all, “then get rid of the driver and send the boy up here, there is no need for you to accompany him.”

She nodded abruptly, giving the faintest bow in his direction. The etiquette of her japanese upbringing was still obvious. 

“Of course, Sir” she said briskly, “is there anything else?”

“No, I will ring if we need anything.”

She nodded again and left the room, the sound of her heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs loud against the relative quiet of the rest of the house. Anatolievich strode over to the mirror and inspected his reflection; he looked good. He liked looking at his appearance in the mirror and even in the darkened windows of stationary cars. He was under no illusion that he wasn’t the most handsome man in the world, but nevertheless, he enjoyed inspecting his face, preening. 

Anatolievich moved to the record player in the corner of the room and set the stylus moving. The sound of Chopin: Nocturne No.2 in E-Flat Major played out into the room. Perfect. Humming along, walking as though on air, Anatolievich sat down at his chess board, the cool breeze ruffling his shirt. He cleared the board and then began to set it up once again, ready for play. 

Alex stared up at the big house in awe. It was beautiful. It was made of elegantly sculpted sandstone - most likely from the nearby quarry and, as the sun began to set, the light made the house glow faintly gold. No doubt it had been built high on the edge of the hill for this precise effect. Though Alex couldn’t see how far back the house went, he guessed it was at least as big as Brooklands, if not bigger. The building was old and worn, but the modern touches were obvious too and they were as magnificent as the parts of the house with history. 

There were large front windows, with clear, unmarked glass which had hidden frames so they looked like the had apart of the house forever. There were also three discrete cameras hidden above the ornate looking door. Though the door appeared heavy and wooden, Alex could tell that it was as modern as the windows. The hinges were much too small to support a heavy door, and he suspected that the door had wooden panelling, instead of being carved from an actual tree.

He gave a start as Joseph spoke. 

“I bet it’s not as fancy as you’re used to,” he said jovially, offering his hand, “I bet you’re-”

Alex took his hand, shaking it firmly, cutting across the driver, “Insult me and you’ll find out a lot of information about your mother.”

Joseph threw his head back and laughed loudly whilst Alex resumed looking up at the house. He sensed movement in one of the first floor windows and peered up at it for a better look. All was still. He looked back at Joseph. 

“Thanks for the coke.” Alex said pleasantly, 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Joseph casually, “I get reimbursed anyway.”

“Still,” said Alex deliberately, looking meaningfully into his eyes, “thanks.”

Joseph opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the fake wooden door swung open and there stood a large figure. It bent a fraction forward before straightening.

“Joseph,” said a female voice raspily, “Mr Anatolievich says that you may go.” she took a few steps forward so her face was bathed in sunlight. She was a square woman, her jaw was wide and her eyes were set slightly too far apart. The eyes and the little bow she had given, gave away her nationality: Japanese. She had stringy red hair and a pallid, unsmiling face. 

“Mr Friend.” she said, looking directly at Alex, “you are to see Mr Anatolievich immediately. You will then be shown to your room and then dinner will be served.”

Alex gave a shrug, “sure.”

“Bye Alex.” came a voice from behind him. Alex turned to see Joseph getting back into the Bentley. 

“Bye!” he waved in return and stood for a few moments, watching as Joseph set off and drove back down the drive. 

“Mr Friend?”

He turned his gaze on the woman.

“What?” he asked insolently. 

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she just grunted loudly and trapsed back into the house. Alex followed her. It was just as grand as the outside, if not more so. With beautifully well kept mahogany floorboards and stairs, covered in royal blue rugs it looked like a place out of a fiction novel. There were large portraits hanging on the wall, and ornaments dotted around the entrance hall on small tables. 

“Do not touch anything.” came the woman’s stern voice, “everything here is priceless.”

Alex gave a mock salute, “Yes Ma’am.”

She didn’t smile, but just pointed up the staircase. “Mr Anatolievich is waiting for you in the first room on your left.”

She walked away stumpily; the lighter ornaments threatening to topple as she walked by them. Alex took in a deep breath. He could do this; he had to. He ruffled his slight fringe to give it a messier, more unruly look, grasped the strap of his bag as if it would give him some much needed confidence and began the ascent up the stairs. 

After being reluctantly dropped off at school, Sabina had sat at the back of her lessons, scowling at the teachers, barely paying attention to what they were saying. She’d walked home with the same scowl clouding her features; she couldn’t stop thinking about Alex. She went over the things that she knew in her head. 

Alex had been kidnapped from school.

Alex had been rescued by the US military. 

Alex had a pseudonym - Alex Friend. 

MI6 or some other intelligence service was keeping the alias up to date for an unknown reason.

Alex was probably on another mission.

It was probably her fault. 

She was going to try and bring him home before anymore damage could be done. 

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, staring into her dresser mirror. Her hair was frizzy and untidy from all the times she’d messed it up and her eyes were slightly red. There was a knock at the front door but she ignored it, her dad would get it. She repeated the list in her head once more. A minute later there was a shout from downstairs.

“Sabina!” It was her father. 

“What?” she shouted back, annoyed. 

“There’s a young man here,” he yelled back up the stairs, “he says he knows you, he says it’s important.”

Grumbling under her breath, Sabina wrenched her door open and thundered down the stairs. She made her way to the front door where her father and the mystery boy were standing. 

“Sabina!” 

She groaned inwardly, “Brad?”

“Hey look, this is really important-”

She rolled her eyes, “Sure it is, what do you want, an interview?”

“Now Sab,” said her father, repremarndingly, “don’t be rude.” he turned to Brad, “would you like to come in?”

“Yes, please.”

Her father stepped back to let Brad into the house. The boy’s weedy features came into view and he looked around. “You have a nice house Mr Pleasure.”

“Thank you er-” said her father, beaming. “- Brad was it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, no need to call me Sir,” he said smiling, “just call me Edward.”

“Daad!” she interrupted.

“Oh yes, sorry,” he said distractedly, “I’ll just go and-”

“Wait!” said Brad hastily, “I think you’ll want to see this too. Can we go somewhere a little more,” he gestured around the hall, “comfortable?”

“Of course,” said her father, puzzled, he held the door open to the living room, “in here.”

The three of them filed in, taking seats around the coffee table. A sudden thought struck Sabina. 

“Hey, Brad?” she began curiously, “how did you know where I lived?”

The boy blushed, his hands scrunching in his trousers. “I er- I followed Alex home one time.” he admitted quietly. Sabina raised her eyebrow at him. 

“Don’t worry though,” he said quickly, “Alex knows - at least I think he does.” He looked down at his hands, “I think he noticed me following him within about a minute actually.” he said ruefully. 

Sabina pursed her lips. “That sounds like Alex.” 

Brad’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers wildly. “Yes, it does!” he said excitedly, “and so does..” he fiddled with his phone and then brandished it at her with a flourish. “this!”  
Sabina took the phone and read the text on the screen. Her father looked over her shoulder to read it too. After they’d finished reading, she exchanged a look with her father. He looked as confused as she felt. 

“Brad- what?”

The boy took the phone back, and brought out a pad of paper. “The day he left with his old guardian, I interviewed him,” he began, “and I asked what his favourite football club was, and his favourite player and he said-”

“Danny Drinkwater?” Sabina guessed, a flood of excitement jolting through her. 

“Got it in one.”

She held her hand out for his phone and he gave it to her. She read the message again. “Oh!” she exclaimed loudly. It had just clicked, oh clever, clever Alex. 

“Sabina?” questioned her father, “are you alright.”

She nodded rapidly. “It’s from Alex, It’s a code - we were doing them in English, I borrowed his essay-”

She cut herself off, looking guilty at her father. He gave her a bemused look.  
“Sabina,” he said gently, “we talked about his, no more stealing Alex’s homework.”

“I didn’t steal it,” she defended cooly, “he leant it to me.” He gave her an unimpressed look, folding his arms. 

“Nevermind that now though,” she said, turning back to the phone, “hang on, wait there.” she raced upstairs to her school bag and returned a few seconds later, leaping down the stairs, essay in hand. 

“Okay, let’s get started.” 

Alex trudged up the staircase, his footsteps echoing like the woman’s had. He tried to keep a steady pace and not falter but his knees felt wobbly and it was difficult. He took out his phone and selected an app. The bug detector. It would be useful to know how cautious this man was, whether he kept secret recording devices around his own house. He reached the top of the stairs, and his app had detected no bugs. He stepped toward the door on his left, and the app screen turned red. Ah. 

Putting his phone away, he took a deep breath, raising his hand to knock. A second later, he decided against it, instead, he pushed open the door. Inside was not what he had expected. The room was a complete polar opposite of the outside and hallway of the house. It was the epitome of modern design apart from the original floor. The room stretched from one side of the house to the other; obviously several walls had been knocked through. 

There room was mostly empty, with elegant minimalist furniture which looked expensive. On the far left, there was an ornate fireplace with a small log burner in the centre. Next to it, in the corner of the room, there were several wide leather sofas and a small coffee table. There was a record player tucked away nearby that playing a gentle piano composition Alex thought he recognised. Close by, out on the balcony, was a man sat at a crystal chess board; Anatolievich. The man was staring right at him. 

Alex cleared his throat awkwardly, “Hey.” 

The man pinched the bridge of his nose, “My dear boy,” he said, sighing. Alex resisted the urge to shiver at the man’s voice, clear and eloquent - the slightest trace of a russian accent. “The word is ‘hello’. Even I know this and English isn’t even my first language.”

Alex had not expected this; he nodded dumbly. “Sure.”

Anatolievich rolled his eyes and sighed but did not comment. “Come, sit.” he gestured at the seat across from him. “Maybe you can make a better impression through chess.”

Alex stayed silent, he wasn’t sure what Alex Friend would say in this situation. He took a guess, “Chess is boring, can’t we play something else?”

Anatolievich’s expression turned from exasperated to downright annoyed. He stood from the table and walked over where to Alex stood. Anatolievich stared at him; Alex felt like he was under a microscope. He didn’t say a word. He took the opportunity to examine the man in front of him. 

Anatolievich was tall, much taller than Alex by almost a foot. He was dressed in a neatly pressed black suit, complete with a white shirt, navy blue tie and waistcoat. Alex looked into the man’s eyes; they were a dark blue, matching the tie. He had black hair and eyebrows but they were obviously dyed. The colour was much too dark for a man of his age, it should have begun to fade a little by now. He had a long nose, thin lips and narrow eyes. He looked russian, if that was possible. 

“Let us start again, Mr Friend.” Anatolievich smiled, “How was the car journey? Pleasant I take it?”

Surprised, Alex paused for a second then said, “It was alright, I don’t think much of Joseph's music choice.”

“No?” said Anatolievich, a smile playing at his lips. “And what does Joseph listen to?”

“Pop.” Alex said simply. 

“And what do you like?” 

Alex gestured at the record player, he felt that actual honesty would help him in this case, “Chopin, Bach, Verdi.”

Anatolievich grinned widely. “We share the same taste. I was half expecting you to say something horrific like techno or rap.” 

Alex shrugged in reply. 

“You know what I think, Alexander?” asked Anatolievich, stepping a fraction closer.

“It’s Alex,” he replied automatically.

Anatolievich ignored him, “I think, Alexander, that this whole,” he gestured at Alex’s uniform, “bad boy, rebel get up is a charade.”

Alex’s heart thudded in his chest. Had he been that obvious?

“No.” continued Anatolievich, “I think that your rich daddy didn’t pay you enough attention and you dress like this and request to go to ridiculously expensive schools halfway across the globe just to get him to notice you.”

Alex chewed on his lip. Should he agree with him?

“So what if I do?” Alex challenged. 

Anatolievich smiled again, he did that a lot. 

“I am not a patient man Alexander, which is why I have decided to address this now, rather than later in your stay here. I think it best to get things over and done with, do you agree?

Alex nodded meekly. 

“Then, I would very much like,” Anatolievich said carefully, “for you to drop the act whilst you are here. I find charades very tiring.”

Alex paused. Should he stop playing Alex Friend? Somehow adopting a different personality made everything seem further away, not as immediate and real. But on the other hand, he’d be able to get closer to him if he did what Anatolievich wanted. But did he really want that?

“Okay.” he breathed.

“We shall start, I think” Anatolievich said, “with this.” he gestured at Alex’s outfit. Before Alex could stop him, the russian had stepped closer and reached out, tugging Alex’s blazer collar down. It didn’t feel the same as when the headmaster had done it earlier that day. Anatolievich’s fingers were careful, practiced and there was a hungry glint in his eye. 

“I will warn you now Alexander, that I have a dress code in my house, many rules of which, you are currently breaking. ” Anatolievich pulled the tie from round Alex’s neck and then looped it back, tying the tie for him. It was much, much too intimate. He felt his cheeks flush. Alex didn’t breathe until the man had finished, pushing the tie up to his neck.

Finally, Anatolievich tugged the sleeves of his jacket down. His skin brushed Alex’s arm as he did so. The fingers lingering a moment too long, Alex tried to ignore it. He hoped that Anatolievich wouldn’t try and tuck his shirt in too. 

“Now, Alexander, you are ready and we shall play chess.”

Sabina sat back in her seat as she stared at the decoded message on the notepad. 

The first line read: 

Hi Brad, Danny Drinkwater here. I’m very good at passing things on to other players on my team and I bet you are too. 

This, they had decided was to establish who it was and to get Brad to tell Sabina about it. 

The next line, ‘Because my life is pretty blunt, my leaving was unexpectedly due to a fantastic cause.’ Sabina had looked up that pretty used to mean crafty, and fantastic was imaginary and they had translated the second line to mean:

Because his life was ruled by a crafty Alan Blunt, Alex’s kidnapping was because of an imaginary cause. Did this mean that Alan Blunt had orchestrated Alex’s kidnapping so her could force him into taking another mission? 

A friend of a Friend was more difficult. They hadn’t guessed who that was yet. Because of Alex’s clues however, they knew the man was an acquaintance of Sir David Friend and of russian heritage. Yassen had obviously been the guy on the plane Alex had mentioned. Sabina guessed that their similarities were also due to how dangerous the two men were. The thought did not bring her any comfort. 

The next line, was the most disturbing and Sabina had checked and double checked the definition. 

‘except this one will want to bully me and I don’t want to let that happen.’

Bully, according to Alex meant lover. This man, whoever Alex was being sent to ‘visit’ wanted to sleep with Alex. He wanted to- 

It made Sabina feel physically sick. Brad and her father didn’t look much better than she felt. The line strengthened her resolve and she was more determined than ever to get Alex back. 

The mention of her father’s job was interesting but none of them had any idea what he could do to help. They’d have to wait and think. His final request was for them not to do anything Alex would do. They took this to mean not to do anything reckless or stupid. They needed to come up with a plan but Sabina couldn’t think of anything apart from Alex, alone and scared in the company of a dangerous paedophile. 

“Dad?” she asked quietly. 

“Yes, Sab?”

“What are we going to do?”

“Well, for starters, I’m going to get in contact with Sir Friend and see what he has to say about all this,” he said angrily, “he has to be involved and quite frankly, my opinion of him is now so low, it’s virtually non-existent.”

Sabina had never heard her father so angry, so full of hate and malice. She told him this. 

“I’m sorry dear,” he said kindly, “but some complete bastard is hurting my son and when I find out who it is, I don’t care if he’s seven foot and a karate master - I’m going to rip him limb from limb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0 
> 
> So that's the decoded code, I only had those three words to work with from the beginning because my planning is non-existent.  
> I wanted to get the meeting between Alex and Anatolievich over and done with cause I wasn't sure how to play it out. I think Anatolievich seeing through the charade easily is a good trait for his kind of character. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it and remember, reviews are life. 
> 
> I honestly have no concrete plans for the next few chapters so if anyone has any ideas then they're most welcome. 
> 
> That Chopin sonata? It's what I was listening to when I wrote it. Classical is such a beautiful genre of music. 
> 
> Did you like that protective Edward Pleasure moment? I did. I think he's an awesome father honestly, he's such a cool dude.


	10. Ten

Anatolievich paused for a moment, still standing in front of the boy, hands still lingering around the cuffs of Alex’s blazer jacket. Brown eyes stared nervously up at his own. He released the fabric and brushed past to take a seat at the chessboard. He gestured to the chair opposite and the boy followed his direction, sitting nervously on the edge of the seat. 

“Now now, Alexander,” he said “I don’t bite.”

The boys eyes flicked up to his once again, there was something behind the innocence, something behind the nerves, he couldn’t quite place it. 

“I’m just not very good at chess.” he said quietly

“I don’t believe that for a second, but here,” he said, twirling the board round. “You can be white, have a head start.”

The boy mumbled something which sounded like a thank you and moved a pawn a couple of spaces. Anatolievich smiled and moved a black knight. They played for some time, Anatolievich taking more white pieces off the board than Alex took black, but the boy was good. He was opportunistic and bold, almost calculating. As they played, the boy looked grew more serious, he focused harder on the game and every now and then, his eyebrows would furrow and his teeth would come out to bite his lip in concentration. 

It was at these moments where Anatolievich would make mistakes and foolish decisions, his own concentration focused elsewhere. 

“I thought you said you weren’t very good at this game Alexander.” Anatolievich said, raising an eyebrow as Alex took his Queen.

The boy shrugged. He’d finally grown more comfortable in his chair and had taken off the jacket, he looked good in white. “Natural talent?”

“Indeed.” 

They continued and the pace of the game grew, both players taking and moving pieces as quickly as the other had moved them. The sun was set now, the shadows darkening the boy’s features. It highlighted his sharp jawline, exaggerating the curve of his cheekbones which were usually hidden under slight baby fat. The boy’s skin seemed lighter in the pale moonlight and his eyes darker. 

“Check.” Anatolievich said, finally. 

Alex moved his king and Anatolievich followed it with his castle. “Check.” he repeated. They went through the same routine several times. Alex moving his king out of the way whilst Anatolievich moved his own pieces to put him in check and block Alex in, to force him to give up. He often enjoyed this part of the game. 

“Check.” he said lazily. 

He was growing bored. Alex did not however move his king straight away this time, instead, his frown grew deeper, examining the board. Anatolievich could almost see the cogs turning. He took advantage of Alex’s hard concentration to openly look at the boy. He was broken out of his staring a minute later when the boy grinned triumphantly. He moved his knight to take the black castle. Anatolievich scoffed and took the knight immediately with a bishop. The bishop which had been guarding-

Alex whooped in delight, leaning backwards and punching his arms up into the air. He grinned at Anatolievich. It was a beautiful smile; it made him look younger. Alex’s deft fingers moved his queen into position. He made deliberate eye contact with Anatolievich. 

“Checkmate.”

Anatolievich smiled testily. But he wouldn’t argue, they boy had won fairly. It had been his own inattention to the board which had caused his downfall. If he had been playing anyone other than Alex he would have noticed the obvious ploy. 

“I thought you said you weren’t good at chess.” Anatolievich said, forcing a smile on his face; he didn’t like to lose. Alex said nothing but just grinned at him, spreading his hands in a ‘what can I say’ sort of motion. He caught Anatolievich staring at him and self consciously mussed up his hair. 

“Come,” Anatolievich said, rising from the table. “Amaliya will have prepared dinner.”

“I said, I want to speak to Sir David now.” came Sabina’s fathers angry voice from the hall. He had been trying to reach him for an hour now and had only just been put through to the man’s secretary. Sabina and Brad sat in the living room, listening. Sabina couldn’t take her eyes off the words 'except this one will want to bully me and I don’t want to let that happen’ 

She felt sick everytime she read it. ‘I don’t want to let that happen.’ Alex phrased it so calmly, so stoically, it was as if he was resigned. He didn’t want to let it happen, but he knew it would be suggested, knew it was inevitable, that the man would try- 

She turned away from Brad who was still sat awkwardly in their sitting room. He didn’t know what was happening. He thought Alex was with his previous foster family. She couldn’t tell him. She didn’t have the heart nor the stomach. 

“I don’t CARE IF-” her father started angrily. Sabina had never heard him this irate before. “Look,” he said, much quieter, but still with the same harsh tone. “ this is about Alex. You know, my son.” There was silence. “Yes. Yes. Thank you.” 

They heard footsteps and then her father’s head poked around the door. “They’re putting me through to him now.” Sabina rose from her seat. 

“Can I-”

“No Sab,” he said kindly, “you stay here. I’m going to- well, I’m going to have some words with him.” He left and Sabina fell back onto the sofa. 

There was silence in the room and she could feel Brad staring at her. “Well...” he began slowly, “this is awkward.”

She looked at him. “No it isn’t.”

“It is a little,” he said, uncomfortably, “I mean, you’re obviously hiding something from me and don’t want me to know that you are, I’m not an idiot.”

“You said that with so much conviction I almost believed you.” she said dryly

“Sabina, I’m serious,” he said, his voice rising, “I want to know what’s going on.”

“And you think I’m going to tell you, do you?” she asked cooly. She didn’t want to show that she was upset. She wanted Brad to go and leave her alone. 

“I was hoping you would, yeah.” he said angrily. He stood from his place on the opposite sofa and sat next to her. “Because I’ve only known Alex a couple of months, but I care about him.” his voice choked, “I care much more about Alex than you-”

WHAM. All the feelings of pent up worry and sadness that Sabina had been feeling expressed itself in the form of her fist as she hit out at Brad. It caught him on the nose and he cried out as she felt something hot run over her knuckles. She looked down, wondering what it could be. Blood. 

She looked at Brad’s face which was difficult as he was covering it with both hands. “ARGH Sabina! You punched me! What-” 

She pried his hands away from his nose and looked at it. It wasn’t broken. Her ring had caught the skin however and it was causing a steady, substantial bleed. “Why did you hit me?” he said indignantly, “Oh my God, I can taste blood-”

Sabina leaned back on the sofa, no longer looking at him. “Well, there’s a lot of it.” she said calmly. She reached out with her toe to poke the box of tissues on the table. “Use those.” 

They sat in silence once again as Brad stemmed the bleeding. Once he had finished he threw the tissues in the bin and collapsed into the seat beside her. They stared at the wall opposite them blankly. Neither speaking to the other. 

“You like him, don’t you?” Sabina asked after a while. 

There was a pause of several seconds and then Brad said, finally “Everyone likes him.”

“You know what I mean.” 

“Yes. I do.” He said quietly, “I like him very much. And all I want to know is what’s going on. Please Sabina.”

She looked at him, he was pathetic, she thought, with his bloody nose and his high school crush. But she was jealous of him, she hated that.

“I like Alex too.” she said, so low it was almost a whisper, “But I’m his sister now. I envy you.”

Brad looked at her incredulously, gesturing at his bloody face. 

“Not right now, obviously,” Sabina continued quickly, “but you can have Alex, you’re allowed to fancy him. I fancied him, when were friends but now he’s my brother. It doesn’t go away immediately. Of course I’d never do anything but,” she paused. “He’s a hard boy to get over. But I know I will, eventually.” 

Brad nodded. “I liked Alex when I first saw him, I thought he was your boyfriend for a week until I found out you had the same name.” he laughed derisively, “but you’re not to worry Sabina, I don’t have a chance either, Alex isn’t gay.”

Sabina looked at him out of the corner of her eye, “No?” she asked slyly, “I’ve always thought there was a bit of a bisexual vibe.”

Brad shook his head. “He’s on the soccer team, he eats burgers, wears hoodies and trainers and doesn’t care about his hair, I’m pretty sure he’s straight.” there was a pause, “But then again,” Brad said thoughtfully, “he does have his ears pierced and I've never seen him with a girl...” he trailed off.

Sabina shrugged, “It doesn’t matter anyway, even if he is Bi or pan or whatever. If this guy in the message he’s with does- well, I don’t think I’d be up for sex with anyone.”

“So who is he with?” Brad pressed. 

“I don’t know,” she said sadly, “someone russian, probably with a lot of power. He’ll be dangerous and he’s- well, he’ll want to molest Alex.”

“Why though?” Brad asked impatiently, “why was he kidnapped? Where was he taken? Why did he send you a coded message? Why did he have to send you a coded message? What-”

“Okay enough!” she interrupted, “I’m not going to tell you, I’m not actually allowed, but trust me Brad, you don’t want to know. Just know that Alex is in trouble and we need to help him.”

There was quiet in the room, no noise apart from their breathing and the ticking of the clock. 

“So, a powerful, sketchy, dangerous russian.” Brad said slowly. 

“Yup.”

“In the US?”

Sabina considered this. “Maybe?”

Brad picked up his phone and typed. 

“What are you doing?”

“Googling sketchy russians in the US.” he said simply. 

“What? Brad! You can’t do that here.” she said hurriedly, trying to take his phone. “Not on my WiFi.” 

Brad gave her a confused look, moving his phone out of reach. “I’m using my data,” said as if it was obvious, “I don’t have your WiFi passcode.”

Sabina stopped trying to take his phone. “Oh,” she said “oh yeah.”

“So, I’ve found a list on Yahoo. I’ll read it out and you tell me if you’ve heard of any of them.”

Sabina snorted at Brad’s tactics but consented.

“Bobrick. Venediktov. Durov, Kamenskikh,” Brad started, taking his time over the pronunciation of each name. “Gregorovich,” Sabina’s heart skipped a beat, “Lipin, Pushnoy. Teplov, Anatolievich - I’ve heard of him, he’s a diplomat isn’t he?” Brad asked interestedly. Sabina shrugged and he continued, “Cherkasov, Yudin and Shubkin.”

He looked up at her, “There are a lot of dodgy russians aren’t there?” 

“Well-” she began but a second later her father walked into the room looking cross. 

“Sir David is coming over,” he said, throwing himself into a chair. “He said ‘he need to explain in per- Brad, what happened to your face?”

“I er-” he looked awkwardly at Sabina. 

“Sabina?” her father asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“It was an accident.”

Brad looked annoyed but didn’t say anything. 

“Are you alright Brad?” her father asked, craning his neck to get a better look at his nose. 

“I’m fine.”

“Well, in that case, if Sir David is coming over-” he stood and motioned to Brad, “I think you better be leav-”

“No, wait - Dad.” Sabina interjected before he could get any further. “I think Brad should stay. He wants to help and-” she looked at him; his nose really did look a mess. “We should let him.”

Brad smiled at her. 

“Very well, if you’re sure.” said her father, confused, “Sir David will be here in the morning. I’ll do up the spare room.” he exited and she turned to Brad. 

“I thought you’d want to stay.” Brad nodded his thanks and massaged his nose. “Besides, that list of yours might come in handy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know its not as long or as good as a lot of you were probably hoping and I'm sorry. But today was the only day I've not had anything to do for a while (because I'm ill) so I thought I'd write this to make the gap a little shorter between now and the next chapter (hopefully, I have no idea when I'm writing the next chapter. Term starts on Monday!) Hope you like it, I promise things will actually happen in the next chapter and I hope you enjoyed this. I'm a big fan of some of my speech in this. I know it's not a masterpiece and I'm sorry, but I did try.


	11. Eleven

Tight, smooth, pale skin was stretched out in front of him, firm muscles obvious as they worked overtime. Anatolievich’s hands reached up to splay its fingers across the boys stomach. He could feel a steady pulse underneath his fingertips; was he nervous? Excited? He looked up into the face of the boy beneath him. The blonde fringe hung over a furrowed brow and spilled down into his eyes. His cheeks were flushed pink making the boy look younger than ever. He looked helplessly up at Anatolievich from his position on the bed, hands tied above his head to the headboard with the very tie that earlier he had been reluctant to wear. His state could be described as nothing but powerless, firmly attached to the bed. He was unable to fight, unable to get away, unable to do anything but lie there without assistance. Anatolievich liked it.

But the boys gaze held a steely determination, a fire was burning brightly behind those intelligent, calculating eyes. He didn’t look like he wanted to leave, but for someone in such an obedient, submissive position, the boy looked like the one in control. His jaw set, his eyes blazing and his skin flushed with pleasure, Alexander held all the cards.  
But then Anatolievich was on him, kissing the warm skin of his neck and the boy’s eyes widened in surprise and he could do nothing but lie there and take what Anatolievich was giving him. Anatolievich kissed up and down his neck, marring the smooth unbroken skin with bruises and bite marks. Every now and then when Anatolievich sucked particularly hard or broke the pale skin the boy would whimper and make a quiet, pleased noise in the back of his throat. Anatolievich wanted to listen to those sounds all day long. 

Alexander was a symphony orchestra and Anatolievich would conduct him, press in all the right places until every sound the boy could make had been drawn from him. He bit down on the spot directly over his pulse point in his neck and the boy keened loudly, pulling at his wrists. Anatolievich smiled up at him and the boy’s face grew a shade pinker.  
“I-I’m sorry” he began “I-”  
Anatolievich held a finger to his lips. “Don’t apologise, quite the opposite. I want to hear you.” He sucked again on the same spot and drew another beautifully soft, wanton moan from the boy beneath him. He smiled and kissed his way up to Alexander’s face. “Better.” he whispered. The boy’s eyes looked away from his own, embarrassed. Anatolievich cupped the other’s cheek with his hand and drew their faces closer. Their lips crushed together and Alexander let out a sigh, opening his mouth when Anatolievich’s tongue probed into it. The boy tasted like artificial sweets, on any other person Anatolievich would have found this unpleasing but this was Alexander, and it was because it was Alexander that he wanted more, wanted to taste the boys mouth forever. 

He pulled his face away and the boy chased it, rising up from the bed, unwilling to let him go. Anatolievich put a gentle hand on his shoulder, pushing the boy back down onto the bed clothes, grinning. “Patience Alexander, patience.”

Anatolievich woke the next morning, groaning as the sun broke into the room. He reached out a hand, searching for Alexander’s body only to find that he was not there. He opened his eyes and looked around at his room. It was empty. He lay back down in the mess of tangled sheets. It had been a dream, a wonderful dream. He stayed there from some time, staring at the canopy of his bed unseeing, picturing Alexander’s beautifully flushed face. 

Dinner had been a quiet affair last night, pleasant and refined. Alexander had told him of his childhood, growing up with his sister Fiona and the trouble he had got in at school. The boy was delinquent, a troubled kid, Anatolievich could see it in his eyes, he was tired. But he was also wonderful, he loved classical music, he loved sports and reading, he was good at school and didn’t need to try. He also had a dry wit and a steady sense of humour. Sometimes, the evidence of the charade Alexander had been putting on leapt out, he occasionally replied with comments which were meant to mock the other and detach Alexander himself from his surroundings, but then the boy would realise, apologise and make and then make some humorous, intelligent quip.

Anatolievich had sent Amalyia away at the end of dinner and escorted Alexander personally to the room where he’d be staying.. Anatolievich had placed the boy in the room next to his own, coming up with some lie about how it was much nicer than the others available, how the sun came through the window in the mornings and the view of the quarry. In reality, any of the other rooms in the house would have been perfectly fine, they were equally as splendid as this one, but he’d wanted Alexander near him. He’d only known the boy an evening, but this boy wasn’t like the others, he didn’t recoil from his touch, he seemed quite comfortable around him already. It was unnerving, but Anatolievich didn’t care.

He stared up at his canopy, thinking about his dream, bringing back every detail, replaying it in his mind. His hand snaked beneath the bedclothes and he closed his eyes, conjuring the image of Alexander spread open beneath him to the forefront of his mind. 

Alex woke feeling groggy. His head felt clouded and his eyes hurt. He’d been sleeping awkwardly on his arm and he pulled it out from underneath him, burying his face in the pillow. He was here. There was no going back. He was here to stay, to play the part of Alexander Friend, though in reality he wasn’t really putting on a character, Anatolievich had seen through it, so now he was himself, with an altered backstory. It made him vulnerable and he didn’t like it. He thought about Anatolievich’s piercing gaze on him last night and the intelligence which would surely realise something was up if he faltered even for a second. He’d be on his toes twenty-four-seven. He’d swept the room for bugs last night and found none and was grateful. He didn’t think he’d be able to hack it. Alex got out of bed and stumbled to his en-suite. Splashing water in his face, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was lank and lifeless. He wasn’t surprised, the last time he’d washed it had been at the Pleasures house. He stripped off his pyjamas and stepped into the shower. Too late, he realised he had nothing to wash his hair with. There was body wash however and he used libral amounts of it, scrubbing the dirt from the previous days from his body. 

He stayed there, under the pouring water for sometime, revelling in the warm water, in the peace and quiet. After about ten minutes, he shut off the water and wrapped one of the expensive looking towels around his waist. He flicked his hair out of his face and headed back into the bedroom. He jumped with a start as he saw Anatolievich in his room. The man turned to him and Alex tried not to show that he was uncomfortable, standing here shirtless in front of a man who was well known for his less than legal sexual exploits. 

“Ah, Alexander,” Anatolievich said, eyes unashamedly raking over Alex’s bare chest. “I was wondering where you’d got to.” His gaze lingered over the bullet wound over his heart. 

“I was just in the shower.” Alex said, gesturing at the open door. 

“Yes, I see.” the man paused, eyes jumping from Alex’s face to his chest and back up again. “Well, Amaliya has just set breakfast and I would like you to join me.” Alex nodded his consent. “I’ll see you in five minutes then.” Alex nodded again and he left, closing the door behind him. Alex let out a breath, he felt dirty, defiled almost. The intensity of Anatolievich’s stare had made his skin crawl and he couldn’t do anything about it. He checked the clock. He had time. Dropping the towel, Alex returned to the shower and scrubbed himself clean for the second time. He felt better after that. He dressed in the spare change of clothes in the satchel and brushed his hair neatly. He didn’t bother with shoes, he figured Anatolievich wouldn’t mind if he was barefoot. He downed two of his pills with water and opened the door. He headed down to where he thought the dining room might be and stopped outside an oak door, listening. He heard the chinking and clinking of plates and cutlery. Right place then. 

He ran a hand through his damp hair, realising that he’d just messed his combing work from earlier. He took another deep breath. He could do this, and the quicker he did do it, the quicker he would be able to leave. He morphed his features into what he hoped looked like a smile and opened the door.

K-Unit were expected to arrive any minute now. There wouldn’t be any drills in the first couple of days of course, the jet lag the british soldiers would be experiencing would alter their performance. Gun, Rex, Apache and Charge were all stood nervously at the front of Fort Bragg. It was a warm day, but overcast and grey which seemed to match their moods. The new Lieutenant that had been brought in was a complete bastard. He pulled them up on their smallest mistakes, made them run drills until they physically couldn’t continue and threatened to discharge them if they didn’t maintain proper standards around the SAS troops. Needless to say, Lieutenant Carmicheal was not anyone's favourite person.

What affected Ghosts mood the most however wasn’t the abrupt dismissal of Lieutenant Stanley, it was Alex. They boy they had rescued from the kidnappers which hadn’t seemed quite right. Ghost was sat alone on the edge of B Squadron’s hut, rolling a cigarette. He didn’t smoke anymore, but it was something to pass the time. He didn’t like waiting around for things. He preferred to be where the action was, where there was danger. And something told him that was located wherever Alex was right now. He heard the electric gates swinging open and got to his feet. He should make an attempt at graciousness after all, it wasn’t K-Units fault. 

He jogged over to where the rest of his troop stood. They were all grim faced, staring at the jeep rolling up the drive. 

“How many do you think there will be?” asked Rex, “Do you think there’s more of them than us?”

Gun shook his head. “They can’t fit more than five people in that Jeep, besides they need to keep the numbers the same if we’re to be working together. It would be unfair if one side had more than the other,”

“This isn’t a contest, Gun.” Ghost said, sighing. Gun was always the competitive one. “We’re here to promote unity or some bullshit like that.”

They fell silent and watched as the Jeep pulled to a stop several metres away. A couple of seconds later the doors opened and the soldiers stepped out. There were five of them, as expected. Ghost surveyed them all slowly, taking in each of their appearances. The man who had been driving was short, but taller than Gun, black with close cropped dark hair and a broken nose which gave him a rugged, handsome look.

He was followed closely by an energetic man who looked like the youngest of the Unit, with wide eyes and big ears, he gave the impression of an overgrown school kid. An older man with fair hair and the beginnings of a moustache had his hand on the school kid’s shoulder and was muttering something into his ear. Whatever is was made the other laugh loudly. From the other side of the vehicle came a tall man, clean shaven with a cleft chin and next to him was-

“Is that-”

“No-”

“It can’t be.”

“Is that allowed?”

“I didn’t know women could join the SAS!”

A tall woman, with square shoulders was walking toward them, her hair flowing behind her like a ginger cloud. She was pretty, but not in a conventional way. Like the driver, her nose had evidently been broken several times too. 

The Unit came to a stop in front of them and the driver held out his hand to Ghost first.. He shook it and they nodded at each other. 

“I’m Wolf.” he said in a gruff voice. “I’m the leader of K-Unit. This is Eagle,” he indicated the school kid, “he’s our sharpshooter. This is Snake,” he pointed to the fair haired man, “he’s our medic. This is Hawk,” he tapped the tall man with the cleft chin, “he’s our tactician and finally this,” he prodded the woman in the side of her ribs, “is Bear, she’s our hand to hand combat expert.”

Gun, Rex, Charge and Apache stared at Bear, mouths open. She raised an eyebrow at them and said cooly, “Can I help?” They remained silent.

“I apologise for my Squadron.” Ghost said roughly, treading on Charge’s foot, “we’re just not used to seeing women here, Delta Force doesn’t allow them.” 

“That’s stupid.” Bear said bluntly. 

Ghost wasn’t sure what to say to this so he nodded awkwardly. He coughed to break the silence. “Let me introduce B-Squadron then.” he said a little too enthusiastically.

“No time.” came a sharp voice from behind them. Ghost turned to see Lieutenant Carmicheal a few feet away. “I’ve changed my mind, if soldiers can’t get over a bit of jetlag, then they’re no use to anyone on an overseas mission. You have ten minutes to dump your belongings in your allocated rooms and then you are to report to the sparring room immediately.” He turned to address K-Unit directly, “I am Lieutenant Carmicheal, I’ll be overseeing this programme.” he turned, not waiting for a reply and walked off. 

K-Unit raised their eyebrows at each other. “Bit overbearing isn’t he?” asked Bear, grinning. There were murmurs of agreement from the Unit. 

“We don’t like him either,” said Apache, smiling widely at them, “He’s only been here a few days and he’s already cut lunch down to forty minutes.”

“How come he’s only been here a few days?” asked Snake, scratching his moustache. “Our Lieutenant was in contact with a Lieutenant Stanley? What happened-”

“Nevermind that,” Ghost cut across him, “I’ll show you where your rooms are.” He turned and headed into the building. He could sense the suspicious looks that K-Unit were giving each other, but his instructions had been clear. As soon as Alex left the Fort, he didn’t exist. Ghost had never seen him and the rescue mission had never happened. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Alex and his scared, pale face as he was led to the helicopter. He had to focus on something else, something completely un-Alex related. K-Unit would be that distraction. After all, they would never have met Alex before in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo….yes…this happened. 
> 
> B-Squadron finally met K-Unit - yay
> 
> Mr Creepy Russian Guy fancies Alex a little too much.
> 
> Lieutenant Carmicheal was originally a woman, but then I realised Delta Force don't allow woman (that's stupid) so I had to change it. Would totally have been badass though, I have plans for Carmicheal. jk, I don't plan anything, ever, but now that I've said I have plans I might make some, who knows? 
> 
> Uni is going well guys, I've just done my first proper week, I'm stressed but I love writing so much so even when I have tons of work I know I'll be writing this so, yay?
> 
> I'm gonna do some Wolf's perspective soon probably, I totally forgot about B-Squadron as a plot point, I know, its so bad, I don't plan, I'm sorry.
> 
> I know the writing of Alex's POV is not good, honestly, its awful but I just wanted to post something and I'll make it up to you. Sorry for the raunchy start by the way, probably gave some of you a little scare. I tried to romantise it a little as its from Anatolievich's POV and that's ovbs how he wants to see it 
> 
> So yes, hope you liked, sorry again about the middle part, I know its rushed and the quality of the writing leaves a lot to be desired, please comment, honestly I can't tell you how much it motivates me to write. I think I have some weird kind of praise thing going on, but oh well, life is life. 
> 
> Hope you're all having a fab time doing whatever you're doing. If you have any good AR fic recs please share them - for me and other readers, I know I scour comments on other fics for recommendations. 
> 
> If any of you love Voltron, which you may or may not, if you don't, I suggest you get on that, I know its a bit dodge and the fanbase is a little dodge too, but honestly some of the fics are just amazing - particularly 'To Be Vulnerable' by Amairawrites.I love it so much,
> 
> Anyway, bye for now, will be back with the next chapter in a bit. Hope your lives are going well, if they're not and you need someone to talk to, hit me up, I'm decent at advice and yeah. Hope you liked :)


	12. Twelve

Alex wandered into the dining room, the carpet was soft beneath his bare feet. The spare clothes in the satchel had been four pairs of baggy jeans and a dozen different coloured t-shirts. The jeans were all slightly too big for him and now, they hung low on his hips, the cuffs of the legs flapping around the heels of his feet. He’d lost weight at the Pleasure’s house. The nightmares he’d been having had had a lasting effect on not just his mind but his body. Most nights he’d dreamed of Julius and the feeling of the gun as it recoiled in his hand. And if it wasn’t Julius, it was Jack, or Yassen, Damian Cray or Alexei Sarov. Less frequently but perhaps worse, were the dreams where he was waterboarded over and over again. He’d wake up, covered in sweat, struggling to breathe. This had led to him heaving over the toilet bowl at three in the morning, throwing up the last night’s dinner. MI6 evidently hadn’t accounted for this whilst buying him clothes.

“Ah, Alexander.” Anatolievich said, standing from the dining table where he had been sitting, he lifted the cloth napkin off his knee as he did so. He held his arm out, hand flat, gesturing to the seat beside him. A place was set for Alex there already. “Join us, please.”

Alex looked up in surprise. Sat on Anatolievich’s other side was a man Alex thought he might know. He was a tall, sturdy man with thick arms and a thick neck. He was bald, but it looked like it was out of choice rather than age as he looked around forty.

“I sense that you recognise our guest, Alexander?” asked Anatolievich, smiling at him with interest. 

“I think so?” Alex said truthfully, making his way over to the table, sliding into the wooden chair. Only after Alex had sat down did Anatolievich sit too. “I’ve seen you on the news, something to do with Belgium?”

Anatolievich looked at Alex with an appraising eye. “You’re quite right Alexander, This is Monte Lindsay, he’s head of the Belgium Federal Police Force.”

Something clicked in Alex’s brain and before he could stop himself he blurted out- “You’ve been investigating the disappearance of that boy haven’t you?” He’d watched the news report the night after he and the Pleasure’s had gone abseiling. “His parents were murdered, he was taken and his siblings were left in the house.” He looked up at the man, “what are you doing here?”

Suddenly, Alex wished he hadn’t asked. Anatolievich and Lindsay shared a fleeting look and he pretended not to have noticed. Alex’s heart was racing now. Had Anatolievich had something to do with the boys disappearance? He tried to force an interested look onto his face before Anatolievich noticed the panic. 

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that Alexander,” Anatolievich said gently, patting Alex’s hand where it was lying on the table. His touch lingered a little too long. “It’s a diplomatic issue.” 

“Oh,” Alex said simply, he felt his face growing hot and he looked down at his knees. “Of course, I’m sorry, I should have realised.” 

Lindsay was the one to speak this time. His voice was cold and nasally. “Yes, you should have. Anatolievich who is this boy?” 

“Alexander is the son of Sir David Friend. You know, the multi-billionaire.” The way Anatolievich emphasised ‘multi-billionaire’ was obviously to caution the other man on his treatment of Alex.

“Now,” continued Anatolievich “I’m afraid we’ve started breakfast without you considering you took so long.” His gaze settled on the water still dripping from Alex’s hair. “What would you like Alexander? Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea,” Alex said simply and Anatolievich shot him a look, “please.” he added, grinning. Anatolievich smiled too and reached for the teapot. 

“Now Alexander, I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you to your own devices this morning,” Anatolievich sounded regretful “Monte and I have things to discuss.” 

Alex nodded, pouring milk into his cup. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you after lunch and give you a proper tour of the house. If you’re hungry later just pull any bell and Amalyia will come.” 

Alex nodded. He wasn’t sure how Anatolievich’s brutish assistant would react to being called like a servant by a boy of fifteen. “Thank you.” 

Anatolievich turned to Lindsay and engaged him in conversation. Alex pulled some toast towards him and buttered it with his knife as the two men talked. He listened in incase there was anything important said but the topic was tennis. He ate his toast hungrily and tried to ignore the way Anatolievich’s gaze would keep flickering back to him. 

“And of course, that trouble with the Triads last year.” said Lindsay casually. Alex’s ears pricked up.

“Yes, I quite forgot about that, that french player was drugged and made an absolute fool of himself on court” Anatolievich said. “They found one of the chinese gang members knocked out didn’t they?”

Lindsay nodded. “I don’t remember which gang it was though, Big ring or something?”

Absentmindedly Alex corrected him, “Big Circle.” 

The two men turned to look at him and Alex felt like someone had doused him with water. He shivered. 

“How do you know that, Alexander?” asked Anatolievich. His tone was pleasant but there was an underlying accusatory note as he asked the question. “It wasn’t in the news.”

Desperately, Alex searched his mind for an acceptable answer. “My dad knows people in the government. I overheard.” 

Anatolievich didn’t look convinced. Panicking, Alex’s floundering brain settled on a half-baked plan. Would it work? Somehow he hoped it wouldn’t. Trying not to let his hand tremble, reached up to mess up the back of his wet hair, trying to look casual and innocent. Simultaneously, he stretched back in the chair, pushing his legs further under the table. Both actions created the effect he wanted. The jeans were already too low on his hips. The t-shirt fit him well enough, even if it was a little baggy, but as he put his hand behind his head, the shirt rode up, revealing at least four inches of bare, slightly damp skin above his now exposed waistband.

He moved less than a second later, reaching forward to grab his cup, playing the previous action off as a casual move. Alex glanced up at Anatolievich as he did so and, as he expected, caught the man’s eyes staring at the spot where the exposed skin had been just moments earlier. Anatolievich’s eyes flicked up to meet Alex’s. He tried to hold the man’s gaze for as long as he could. It was difficult, the primal hunger behind the dark blue eyes frightened him. Alex looked away and, though the interaction had lasted less than two seconds, as he’d hoped Anatolievich seemed perturbed.

“My step-son is exactly the same,” said Lindsay sharply, “he likes to listen in to conversations he’s not supposed to as well. It’s got him kicked out of several schools.”

“Well nevermind that,” said Anatolievich distractedly “I think I’m finished, Monte?”

Lindsay nodded and rose from the table. He hadn’t missed the shared look between Alex and Anatolievich. Alex avoided eye contact with both of them, he felt uncomfortable. Anatolievich rose too, moving round the edge of the table, heading for the door. He looked a little flushed.

“I’ll see you after lunch, Alexander.” 

Alex looked up, not meeting the man’s eyes and nodded dutifully. The two men left the room and Alex was left sat by himself at the large table. He felt like he needed another shower. He placed the tea back on the table, he didn’t much feel like breakfast anymore.

Rico Rohas looked around the room into which he had been thrown. It hadn’t been what he’d expected. So far, he’d been kept in small, cell-like rooms with little distinguishing features, no windows and no heat. This room could not have been more opposite. Every inch of it was extravagant. It was as if a king from the Middle ages had just walked out of the room. It was large and spacious, but decorated liberally with pictures, wall hangings, sofas, small tables and mirrors. The floor was made up of deep mahogany boards but was covered in places with thick red shag pile rugs. The floor-length curtains were the same shade, as was the canopy of the four poster bed which stood in the centre of the room. 

The light coming in through the bay windows was bright and golden which meant that it was late morning. Rico had been blindfolded for the journey here, wherever here was. He remembered the giant red-headed woman holding him tight to her chest, the tall dark-haired man caressing his cheek, his mother falling as if in slow-motion to the floor and him joining her several minutes later. He’d woken up in one of the small cell rooms and that was all he’d known until today where he’d been shoved in what he thought was a van, drugged then led up several flights of stairs and been chucked in this gaudy room. 

He tried the door; locked. He strode over to the window, searching for a catch. Nothing there either. The view outside showed him that there wasn’t another building for miles. All he could see was a flat expanse of land, green and plain it held little indication as to where he was. He sat on the bed gingerly examined the dresser next to him.. He caught sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors on the desk. He looked awful. Dark bags circled his eyes making him look ill, his skin was paler than usual, the tan that he’d had in America fading. The honey coloured hair he had inherited from his mother was matted and greasy after a week of being denied access to a shower. He still wore his pajamas and there was a faint red stain on the sleeve where his mother’s blood had showered him. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he let them fall. There was no one to see him cry after all. 

Rico had had trouble sleeping, nightmares plagued his dreams and most of his waking moments too, his mother falling, his father shouting, the feel of the dark-haired man’s cold fingers against his cheek. Rico wondered what had happened to his siblings, Ellie and Tomas. He prayed that the man hadn’t got them too. He sat there, staring into nothing for a while longer, he didn’t want to sleep if someone was going to enter the room. Eventually, he felt his head dropping onto his shoulder. The bed was very comfy afterall, and the pillows were softer than clouds...he drifted off to sleep, not noticing the hidden camera in the corner of the room.

Anatolievich peered at the screen showing the young boy on the poster bed. He’d seen him before, but not for long enough to get a true assessment. The boy was laid sprawled out, asleep on top of the bed clothes, one arm tucked behind his head. He wore long pajama trousers and a plain top. Yellow coloured hair was splayed out over his face which was contorted into a troubled expression. Anatolievich nodded at the man next to him. He’d do, for now at least. 

Brad lay awake in Sabina’s house for hours that night. The bed was comfier than his own at home but he couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was Alex, and not even in the way he liked to. Questions swirled around his brain, there were so many things he didn’t understand. Sabina had confirmed that Alex had lived in Chelsea. He’d played football for his school team. But then Alex also had an Instagram account full of images of fancy country estates, a girl named Fiona who appeared to be his sister and a cute polish sheepdog called Paul Anka. Then what had the coded message been about? And who did Sabina mean when she talked about Alex’s foster family?

He groaned and pressed his face into the pillow. Hopefully Sir David would clear things up, maybe he could even interview Sir Friend for the Lincoln Post whilst he was here. He pushed the thought from his mind. Alex was what mattered most. 

The next morning, after he heard voices downstairs Brad ventured into the kitchen.

“Jesus Brad, you look like you haven’t slept a wink!” At the sound of Sabina’s voice he looked round slowly. Her dark hair was loose and untidy around her face, her eyes were red and she looked like she’d been scrubbing at her face. 

“That’s because I haven’t.” he said yawning. 

“Here,” said what Brad assumed was Sabina’s mother, gesturing to a chair at the table “sit down and I’ll make you a cup of strong coffee.”

He smiled at her gratefully and sank into the seat. Sabina’s dad gave her a pointed look and she moved over to him.

“Hey, Brad,” she said, sitting down next to him, “I know that this is all confusing for you and you’ll have a billion questions but,” she paused “you’ll have to trust me when I say I can’t tell you and I’m sorry.” 

Brad nodded resignedly. He knew she didn’t like him, she didn’t want to tell him and that was fine. The doorbell rang and everyone’s head’s pricked up.  
“That will be Sir David.” Sabina’s dad said, setting his mug of coffee down heading towards the front door. “I’ll show him into the drawing room.”

“Hey dad, why don’t you show him into the living room? It’s much more comfortable.” Sabina suggested. Mr Pleasure considered her for a moment and then nodded, exiting the kitchen.

Sabina grabbed Brad’s hand. “Hey, come on, I want to show you something.” 

She pulled him up out of his chair despite his protests once they were out of the kitchen she turned to him, annoyed. 

“I was just about to get coffee-” he started but she cut across him.

“Quit whining, just shut up and follow me.” she led him up the stairs, passing a closed door which Brad guessed must be Alex’s room and followed her into what was obviously hers. 

“Wait here whilst my father, Sir David and I talk.” 

“Oh good, you’re getting me out of the way. Thank you very much.” said Brad, his voice laced with sarcasm. 

Sabina crossed her arms and looked at him. “I brought you here because you can hear every word that people in the living room say.” Brad's eyes widened in surprise. “My father told me to say that line in the kitchen. He thinks it’s in your and our best interests but I know that you won’t be satisfied with that answer and you won’t leave Alex alone when he-” she faltered, “if he comes back.”

“Thank you.” Brad said plainly. Sabina nodded at him and left her room, shutting the door behind her. 

Brad listened to her footsteps on the stairs and then tracked her down the hallway. The door of the living room opened and the sound of three voices could be heard. Sabina, her father and the stranger’s. The third must be Sir David Friend. Brad lay on the floor, pressing his ear to the carpet though he could hear their conversation as clear as if they were standing in the next room.

“It’s all very messy, Blunt’s involved and so is Joe Byrne, even the head of NATO was there.” came Sir David’s voice. 

“Byrne?” asked Sabina’s father “The CIA chap?”

“That’s the one. It’s a big fish they’re going after and they all think Alex is the way forward. I got roped in because i’ve cooperated with them before. You have to know that I didn’t know what they were planning to do before they made me sign-” he stopped abruptly. “You know I don’t want Alex doing this anymore. Never would I have imagined that they would actually condone this. Blunt maybe, but Jones? I would never have expected it.”

“But you’re still involved aren’t you?” came Sabina’s voice. It sounded accusatory. 

There was a sigh. “Yes,” said Friend, “regrettably I am and I’m sorry for my part in this. And I’m not allowed to tell you of how much I am involved. Please don’t give me that look, I didn’t know what they were planning until after-”

“That doesn’t make a difference” shouted Sabina suddenly, “Alex has been through enough crap this year without you, Blunt and the rest of them forcing more on him. He needed a break, he was recovering and you-”

“Sabina!” Mr Pleasure’s voice cut across his daughter’s. 

“I’m sorry dad, but Alex just- he was trying out for the soccer team on Monday, he had homework due tomorrow and now he’s God knows where, doing God knows what, with God knows who!”

“I can tell you where actually,” said Friend, “I was reading the contract I signed on the way over, and I’ll tell you all I can.” there was a pause and then he started up again. “Alex is in Florida.”

“Can you tell us what he’s doing?” asked Mr Pleasure

‘I’m afraid not. Though there is one detail which they’ve overlooked in this form. I’ve checked and double checked believe me. I can’t believe they missed it.” 

“Hey, Mr Friend, er- Sir Friend.” began Sabina

“Call me David.”

“Er-right, David. Alex sent us this a few days ago and we’ve translated it. I was wondering how much you can tell us is correct.” There was the sound of something being passed and a minute of silence.

“I don’t know for sure about the start, but with Blunt’s tactics I’d say likely.” said Friend carefully. “I can’t tell you anything about who this ‘friend’ of mine is, but please know that he definitely isn’t a friend. The next line, I-”

“Am I right?”

There was silence and Brad guessed that Friend had either nodded or shook his head in answer, by the muffled gasp and intake of breath from both Sabina and her father, he assumed that Friend had nodded. There was silence again, this time lasting for a good five minutes. 

“Mr Friend- David, what were you saying earlier? About Blunt overlooking something?” Asked Sabina’s father finally.

“Honestly, I want to tell you, and I can legally tell you but now I wish I hadn’t mentioned it, it’ll only make you worry more. And when I tell you please don’t do anything which might put yourself of Alex in danger.”

“Tell us” said Sabina and her father together. 

Friend let out a long breath. “As you know, one of the reasons why Alex is such an efficient operative is because of his age, people underestimate him and let their guard down. Blunt and Jones or someone at MI6 or the CIA, I don’t know which, have come up with a rather inspired, inhumane way to keep that advantage for as long as possible. Alex is fifteen and his body is changing, or at least, it should be.”

There was another silence and the sound of Friend swallowing thickly. 

“There is some er-” Friend’s voice, which had been level all this time wavered slightly as he talked, “technology now available, science really, that allows us to inhibit certain hormones you see, they use it for transgender youths, they block testosterone and estrogen. Well, they’ve slowly being giving something similar to Alex, I’m not sure how - I didn’t want to ask - for a few months. The fact is that they’ve literally been stopping him from growing, from developing, from whatever - so they can keep using him. They’ve given him these pills so he can keep taking it whilst he’s away. Have you noticed anything which might back that-?”

“Alex is smaller than me.” said Sabina quietly, “I’m fifteen and I’m five foot five. Alex is at least an inch smaller. We researched one night for fun to see how tall we’re meant to be - he’s way below average and he’s only grown an inch since he turned fourteen. That’s not normal.”

“He looks younger too,” said Mr Pleasure solemnly, “people automatically assume he’s in middle school rather than high school”

“That’s right,” continued Sabina, “ and his skin is always smooth and soft, he hardly ever gets acne. I’ve been jealous. But if Alex is on this mission or whatever, if he’s away from MI6, can’t Alex just stop taking it?”

“I thought of that,” said Friend, sadly, “but he’ll go through withdrawal and we don’t know what the symptoms are for this drug. They could be fatal. Alex will have realised that I’m sure.” Friend paused and when he spoke again, he sounded as if he was about to cry. “I can’t imagine what it’s doing to the boy’s health - both mental and physical. Knowing he has to keep taking something which is destroying his life, something that’s stopping him from growing up, something which will make him a better spy for the people he hates. At least before he had the knowledge he was going to grow up one day and lose his effectiveness to keep him going but now-”

“Now he’s going to be smaller for longer,” said Sabina plainly, “forever if Blunt has his way.” 

“I don’t think they intend forever,” sighed Friend, “It would be impossible to keep him as a fourteen year old for that long, it would destroy his brain. I think they’re expecting Alex to slip up one of these days.”

“You mean-” 

Silence

“Look, I’ve told you this because you have a right to know, you’re his family but please don’t do anything that will get yourselves into trouble. You can mention me all you like, I haven’t spilled a word of what’s written in my contract. I have powerful allies to keep me safe and I’ll help you in whatever you need me to. Alex is a brave kid and he needs a break. I don’t want him mixed up in anything like this.”

“Thank you, David. That really means a lot to us. I know you didn’t have to fly out here for uss, but we’re grateful you did.” there was the sound of people standing, and footsteps to the door. Once they were out in the hall, Brad could no longer hear what the voices were saying. Nevertheless, he remained on the floor of Sabina’s bedroom. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, MI6? The CIA? Was this all just an elaborate hoax created by Sabina and her family? Was Alex going to jump out at him when he went downstairs?

Brad heard footsteps move back into the living room and listened carefully again. It was Mr Pleasure spoke first, in a cool, collected sort of voice. “Sab,” he said quietly, ‘will you go and invite Brad down from your room?”

K-Unit followed the group of americans into the building, grumbling. None of them paid much attention to the route they were taking. They came to a stop outside a door which the leader of the american squadron held open for them. Their sleeping quarters was made up of one big room, with three bunk beds lining the walls, five lockers and a small table in the centre of the room.

“We’ve just been on a fifteen hour flight, and we don’t even get a night to recover?” said Eagle morosely, setting his bag down on a top bunk. 

“It’s ridiculous,” agreed Snake, choosing the bed below Eagle, “I’m exhausted now, we’re hardly going to be any good like this.”

“Will you quit whining like little girls and just suck it up, please” Bear interjected tersely, pushing past the complaining soldiers and throwing her bag onto an empty bunk.

“Not all of us slept on the flight, Bear” 

“And whose fault was that?” Bear asked, turning to face Eagle.

“Yours.” He said simply

“How can it have been? I was asleep.”

“Exactly,” muttered Wolf under his breath, “your snoring kept us awake.”

“Well excuse me for-”

A loud cough interrupted their argument. 

They turned to see the entirety of B-Squadron stood at the open door. 

“Sorry about them.” said Hawk awkwardly, “they’re always like this. Like children.” he emphasised the last word and looked pointedly at Eagle and Bear. 

“Come on, not even Cub was that bad” said Snake grinning. 

“Hey, so, er- we never introduced ourselves?” interjected the man at the front of the group cautiously. 

“Sorry,” apologised Hawk once again, “that would be nice of you. We can get to know each other this afternoon.”

The Delta Force man nodded and gestured to himself, “I’m Ghost, I’m the leader of B-Squadron. I specialise in stealth and maneuvers, this is Gun,” he pointed to a short, stocky man ”he’s our sharpshooter, Apache here” he clapped the tallest member on the shoulder, “is our ammunition and aircraft specialist. Rex is our hand to hand combat guy” he gestured to the bald, heavily muscled guy, “and finally Charge is our explosives whiz and medic.” he pointed to the last man who had a wide moustache and goatee.

They shook hands in turn.

“Come on,” said Ghost pleasantly, “we best get going, we’re meant to be in the sparring room in two minutes.” 

They traipsed out of the little room and followed B-Squadron to a large room full of blue training mats. The Lieutenant was stood there, waiting. 

“Hurry up, I haven’t got all day. Now, Sergeant Sunday will be overseeing your practice. You are to do as he says, and not.” he glared at Charge and Apache, “mess around.” 

They saluted him and he left. 

“Who wants to join the ‘I hate Lieutenant Carmicheal club?” asked Eagle loudly

“Join it?” asked Charge, grinning broadly, “I’m the founding fucking member.”

The afternoon, though hard work was enjoyable and K-Unit found themselves getting on rather well B-Squadron. They found that Charge and Apache were usually the two who got into the most trouble, and they clicked with Bear and Eagle almost immediately. Wolf and Ghost were both serious, but joined in with their soldiers in joking around. Snake and Hawk found fast friends in Rex and Gun who were always up for a laugh, but found themselves being dragged into trouble by their teammates. 

After the sparring practice, where both sides seemed to be equally matched, K-Unit were shown to the showers and then into the canteen. They set themselves down on the benches on either side of the table. On the table was a large pot of tomato soup and beside it, ten bowls and a plate of bread rolls. 

“This smells way better than the muck we usually get here.” said Gun with obvious excitement. 

Bear was the first to ladle the soup out of the pot and into her bowl. She grabbed a roll and dipped it into the soup. No one else was moving. 

“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at them all. 

“Are you not going to serve us as well?’ Asked Eagle, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. 

Her hands moved to her hips, and both her eyebrows shot up. “What do I look like? Your Grandmother?”

Eagle grinned at her, “I’d imagine not, she’s dead.”

“With you as a grandson, it probably came as a relief.”

“You wound me, my darling,” said Eagle dramatically. Bear glared at him, fist clenching around her soup spoon.

“You, my friend,” said Apache leaning over, “have the survival instincts of a moth at a bonfire.” 

“Tell me, my darling,” said Bear sarcastically, “why are you even here?” 

“I’m here because they needed the best british sharpshooter in the business.” said Eagle smartly 

“And they were too busy so they asked you.” Snake jutted in quickly 

Eagle punched Snake’s arm and the soldier let out a yelp of pain. Snake returned the punch harder and Eagle yelled loudly. “Ow, Snake, I need that arm for tomorrow.”

“As if!” cried Bear “Your girlfriend has needed it for the past three years but-”

“Bear!’” 

“What?”

“Not in front of the americans.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this not a good time for you?” Bear asked in mock concern. 

“Okay,” said Wolf loudly, “that’s enough you two, keep it civil until we’re back at the room.”

They dished out the soup and for several minutes there was no sound but that of the slurping of soup and clinking of spoons against metal. 

“So,” said Ghost, mopping up the remainder of his soup with a bread roll, “are those two er-” he left the sentence hanging. 

Wolf looked confused for a moment and then threw his head back and laughed. “Eagle and Bear?” he said, though a wide grin, “Never. They’re both, well... They’re both Friends of Dorothy.”

Wolf stood from the table and called to his Unit. “Come on, we need an early night. We need to be ready to crush these Yanks tomorrow.” they grinned at each other. 

K-Unit bad B-Squadron goodnight and made their way back to their room. 

“But seriously Eagle,” Wolf said to his teammate in a low voice, ”We've got target practice tomorrow and you’re going to need to blow that Gun out of the water if we’re going to impress Lieutenant Carmicheal”

Eagle nodded, “Don’t worry Wolf,” he said seriously, patting his leader on the shoulder, “I’m great at blowing people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> It's me! With another update, finalllllyy, I'm sorry for the wait, I've just been…busy.  
> I hope you like the chapter, It's a long one - might be the longest yet? I'm not sure. But anyway, its a hefty boi
> 
> Does anyone remember Rico Rohas by the way? I was wondering whether people would, he's from chapter 2 if you don't remember.
> 
> For those of you who don't know a Friend of Dorothy means a gay man (ish) It means more general gay men and women now I think…anyway I thought I'd clear that up. 
> 
> I actually have some sense of direction as to where the story is going now and a massive thanks to Sabrina (not Sabina Pleasure) who has given me like, buckets of motivation and ideas and kept me writing until past 4am last night which meant I missed the free delivery on the McDonald's breakfast this morning. 
> 
> But oh well, you have a chapter, and I'll have to make do with marmite on toast. 
> 
> Also, I think I may have stolen some dialogue from another AR fic? I've had the lines written in my notes for years because I loved it so much. So if I have and you know what fic, please tell me and I'll give credit and link it somewhere because oh my god I remember the writing being amazing and y'all need to experience that.
> 
> Again, reviews are my main source of motivation and I'm going to try and update more regularly but I think we all know which Christmas and Uni and general life, that probably ain't going to happen. 
> 
> Reviews are life, I love you all, thanks for your support, esp you Sabrina, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Any suggestions are always welcome!!


	13. Thirteen

Alex spent the rest of the morning in his room. He’d taken another shower, stared into the bathroom mirror until his legs forgot that they were supporting him and then sat on his bed messaging Georges from St Albans School. It couldn’t hurt, he’d reasoned. Neither MI6 or the CIA had mentioned him having contact with any friends that he might make at the school. The fact that they hadn’t expressly forbidden it and that he hated their guts right now, led to him deciding to message the boy and damn the consequences. 

Georges was very like Tom. He’d noticed it at his brief stay in the school. Georges english was a little broken, though his time in America had evidently widened his vocabulary. They discussed football, recent films and their families. Alex had to make up a lot of information and he felt guilty doing so but the other boy seemed pretty happy with his answers; he found Alex’s resentment of Fiona hilarious. Georges himself was an only child and he’d lived with just his mother until he was eight. She’d remarried to a brute of a man who Georges didn’t get on with but he was away for work a lot of the time which gave the pair some relief. 

Alex was so engrossed in his conversation that he didn’t hear the knock at his bedroom door until it was too late. He started violently as Anatolievich strode into the room, a smile playing about his thin lips. 

“Ah, Alexander.” He greeted pleasantly, “have you eaten?”

Alex’s stomach gave a slight throb, now that he thought about it, he realised he was hungry. He’d forgotten all about lunch. He shook his head. “I forgot” 

“Nevermind, nevermind.” Anatolievich said distractedly. He looked around Alex’s room and his smile turned into a look of exasperation. “Really Alexander, you’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, how could you have made this much mess already?”

Alex looked at his room, now that Anatolievich mentioned it, it was a bit untidy. His towel laid over the chaise-longue at the foot of the bed, his stachel was thrown on the chair and several t-shirts which he’d been considering wearing were strewn over the floor. 

“Sorry, Sir.”

There was a glint of something in Anatolievich’s dark eyes. 

“There’s no need for that Alexander, just tidy this up and meet me in the hall. We can grab food on the way to the theatre.”

“The theatre?” asked Alex, surprised. 

“Yes,” confirmed Anatolievich, smiling again, “It was Lindsay’s suggestion, there’s a play called ‘The Mousetrap’ on. It’s english, I thought that you’d like it.”

“It’s written by Agatha Christie isn’t it? It’s the longest initial running play ever.” 

Anatolievich looked at him interested, “You amaze me again Alexander. I know that your father wanted me to hide you away, but I don’t think this little excursion will hurt.”

Alex nodded. Nothing would happen, of course, the threat against Alex Friend wasn’t real. Mainly because Alex Friend wasn’t real. Anatolievich turned to leave but Alex called him back,  
“Mr Anatolievich?”

“Please Alexander, call me Pytor.”

“Pytor - what should I wear?” Alex asked, wide-eyed.

He would be the perfect picture of innocence he knew. He looked exactly like what Anatolievich wanted. He’d appear younger like this, sat cross legged on a wide bed, mobile phone in his hand, surrounded by a mess of clothes and textbooks. 

Anatolievich took a second to reply, breath catching in his throat. “I'll have Amalyia bring up a suit for you, some more of your clothes should be arriving from England any day now too, so you'll have more to wear than just that.” He nodded curtly and headed directly for the door. “I’ll see you downstairs” 

Amalyia was up a few minutes after, presenting a full light grey suit. It was made of a thin fabric which looked expensive though Alex didn't really know for sure. There was a pressed white shirt and smart brogues shoes accompanying it. Alex didn't know how they knew his shoe size, he wasn't sure he wanted to know either. Memories of what must have happened at Point Blanc rushed through his mind and he pushed them away. Focusing instead on the square woman who was now thrusting the outfit toward him, an unpleasant look on her face. 

"Change." she ordered bluntly.

"What else was I going to do with it?" Alex asked sarcastically, "eat it?"

Amalyia did not smile, but turned to leave, her stringy red hair making an attempt at life as she whisked her head around. Once the Russian had left, Alex relaxed. He hated this. Even though there was no cameras he felt like he was being observed under a microscope every time Anatolievich looked at him. He hated that without even doing anything, he appealed to the man’s sick tastes. He sent a message to Georges, saying that he’d just been caught with his phone in class and had to go. He walked to the mirror, tousled his hair and checked his watch: 1pm. He’d forgotten the pills. He filled a glass from the sink with water, put two pills in his mouth and threw it back. He made eye contact with himself in the mirror but looked away a second later. He was poisoning himself. He could just run away. There was no reason he had to stay here, nothing was stopping him from just... leaving. An overwhelming emotion he couldn’t quite place swelled in his chest. His heart began to pound fiercely in his chest. He was going to leave. Right now.

He turned, grabbed his phone and the satchel and was halfway to the door before Mrs Jones’ words rang in his ears:

“You’ll be condemning thousands of people to lives of misery, hundreds of people will die from the result of gun violence, HIV, drug abuse”

He stopped abruptly, one hand stretched toward the door handle. He couldn’t just leave people in Anatolievich’s control to suffer. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was the best suited to the job. He was exactly what Anatolievich wanted without even trying, ergo he was Anatolievich’s weakness. He could get away with things that others couldn’t. His hand dropped to his side and he set his satchel back down onto the chair. He would just play his part, however much it frightened him, he would ignore the looks the russian gave him. He’d get the damn diary and get out. His resolve thickened, he flung on the shirt, then grey suit trousers and jacket, forced his feet into the shoes and slipped his phone into his pocket. Halfheartedly, he tried to tidy his hair a little as he passed the mirror, soon gave up and left the room. He’d tidy it later. 

Anatolievich was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. He’d neglected to change and was still dressed in this mornings dark suit.

“Ah, Alexander,” he said, eyes raking over Alex unashamedly, “I see that the suit fits nicely, I knew it would. Now, I trust you’re ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The russian’s eyes flashed as he smiled, white teeth shining in the relative darkness of the hallway. This time he didn’t tell Alex there was no need for formalities. They walked outside, Anatolievich taking the lead, Alex trailing behind. Anatolievich slid into the back of a shiney black limo, the door held ajar by the driver Alex had met the previous day. 

Alex gave him a wide smile “Hi, Joseph.” 

Joseph smiled back at him, surprised; he looked tired. “Hey kid, how’s things?”

Alex opened his mouth to reply but Anatolievich cut across him, getting back out of the car. He was considerably taller than both Alex and the driver. “You will not speak to Alexander in that familiar manner” he spat, glaring at Joseph. The other man looked frightened. “You will remember your place and address him as Sir.”

Joseph nodded, looking pale. “Yes, Sir.”

“Sir,” Alex began, “It’s all my fault really, I told him not to call me Sir when he drove me here yesterday. I take all the blame.”

Anatolievich looked down at him, a small smile creeping onto his enraged features. “That’s admirable of you Alexander but it is no excuse for an employee forgetting his place.’

“But-”

“No.” Anatolievich said sharply, eyes narrowing. He slid back into the car and motioned for Alex to follow him.

Once inside he continued in a lower tone. “I trust you understand that I cannot have insubordination amongst my staff, even the slightest disobedience could compromise your safety.” He leant forward to address Joseph. “You will drive us to the theatre and you will conduct yourself with the amount of decorum for which I am paying your salary for.”

“Yessir.” Joseph said hurriedly, fumbling to turn the key in the ignition. His cheeks were red and flushed and Alec felt desperately sorry for the man.

“Sorry about that Alexander,” Anatolievich said kindly 

“It’s my fault really.” Alex protested weakly.

“Hush Alexander, I will not hear another word on the matter.”

Brad entered the living room looking beyond sheepish. His hands were twisting in his shirt and he was sweating unattractively. 

“I-I look, Mr Pleasure, I-”

“Don’t worry Brad. I don’t blame you.” he turned to Sabina who didn’t meet his eyes. “My daughter on the other hand…”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” she started before her father could speak, “but Brad’s just as involved as we are now I couldn’t just leave him upstairs without knowing the truth.”

“Sab-”

“And I know he’s only been apart of it for the past-”

“Sab-”

“Few days but-”

“Sabina!”

She looked up at him, chest rising and falling quickly as if she couldn’t breathe. “Yes, dad?”

“You do know that you signed an OSA after Air Force one don’t you?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in a challenge.

“Yes, Dad.”

“Well then, would you like to explain to MI6 how you breached your contract or would you like me to do it?”

She looked up at him, hands behind her back, eyes as wide and as innocent as they would go. “But dad, I technically didn’t tell him anything. He just...overheard.”

“I’m not sure it works like that Sab darling.”

“Of course it does.” she said promptly, “now, we need to discuss what Sir David’s just told us.”

Her father looked at her resignedly. “Do we Sab? Can I at least get a whiskey first? I’m not sure I can hack it sober.”

“Nor me.” Sabina agreed readily, earning another raised eyebrow from her father. 

Three shots of whiskey later and Brad, Edward and Sabina were sat close together on the sofa in the living room. 

“So,” said Brad finally after a long silence. “What Friend’s told us is that Alex is in Florida and he’s being force fed pills which stop his growth.”

“Pretty much.” said Mr Pleasure dully. He stared unseeing at the wall opposite the sofa, where a picture of Alex, Mrs Pleasure and himself was hanging. It had been taken a few months after Alex had arrived after Egypt. His eyes were still sad in the photograph, but there was a slight upturn in his mouth which hadn’t been there previously. He looked young in the photo even though the hair was shorter. The sight of Liz’ arms around his neck and his own hand on Alex’s shoulder made him appear like any normal child.

“It’s sick.” said Sabina loudly. “Alex wanted out from that life, and he’s been dragged back in. I remember Alex telling me how happy he was that he’d grown, he said he’d be less useful to them. And now, now he’s being forced to-” She broke off, eyes watering. “It’s just awful.”

“So Alex really is a spy then?” piped up Brad from the end of the sofa. “He really does work for MI6?”

“I’m afraid so.” came an unfamiliar, weary sounding voice.

In unison, their heads snapped up to look at the door. A tall man with a greying beard in rumpled army fatigues stood in their doorway accompanied by Mrs Pleasure. She looked frightened. He looked deathly pale and was slightly hunched over, his left hand pressed tightly over his right side. 

Mr Pleasure got to his feet quickly, sharing a panicked glance with Mrs Pleasure “Who the devil are you?” he exclaimed loudly.

“Lieutenant-well,” he broke off, looking at his shoes, they were heavy duty - military issue. “former Lieutenant Stanley. I used to run operations at Fort Bragg”

“Right.” said Sabina slowly, “that honestly doesn’t make things much clearer, but nevermind that now, why are you here?”

“Look,” began the man tiredly, inching towards the armchair to his right. “can I at least sit down or could I trouble you for some water perhaps. It’s about Alex and I’ve come a long way.”

“You can sit down once you’ve told me where you got our address.” Mr Pleasure said sternly, fixing the man with a suspicious gaze. 

“Dad-”

“No Sab, I don’t like people just wandering-”

“He didn’t wander in, Mum let him in!”

“Regardless-”

“DAD!” 

As she shouted, Sabina ran forward to catch the stranger as he fell. She caught him just before he hit the floor, but the man’s weight was too much for her and her knees buckled with him, sending both of them to the ground. 

She looked down at the man whose head was in her lap. His eyes were closed and his breath was coming in short sharp bursts.

“He’s unconscious.” she said, bewildered.

Brad, who had moved so he was crouching next to her, nudged her and pointed at the man’s midruff “I think I know why.” 

A dark red stain was spreading over the man’s white vest shirt. The wound had been hidden by his fatigues whilst he stood, but the jacket was now splayed wide open. There was a gasp of horror from Mrs Pleasure and the sound of Mr Pleasure’s footsteps as he ran for the phone. 

Sabina looked down at the blood spreading over his chest. She could hear the man’s breathing loud in her ears. She didn’t know what to do. A man lay dying in her arms and she didn’t know what to do. What would Alex think of her? She shook herself mentally. What would Alex do if he were here?

“Brad!” she said quickly. “Go grab some towels from the bathroom.”

He looked at her strangely. 

“Hurry!”

He stood and ran from the room. Sabina let out a breath and looked over at the rest of the man. There was another stain on the upper arm of his jacket. She beckoned to her mother.

“Mum, help me get his jacket off, I think he’s injured his arm as well.”

Together, they prised the sleeve off his jacket off the uninjured arm and then the injured one. The man shifted in her lap and let out a low moan. 

“Careful.”

Once the jacket was completely off, they examined the wound. It wasn’t too deep, but it was big. Stretching from his elbow right to his shoulder, a thin red strip marred the skin there.

‘We need to elevate his arm.” Sabina said, lifting the man off the floor, “Help me bring him nearer the sofa.”

They used cushions to prop his arm up on the sofa and a second later, Brad came running back into the room. 

“I’ve got some towels. I’m sorry, but I could only find white.”

Sabina ignored this. “Great. Now put them on his side and press down.”

“Press down?”

“Yes, Brad, put pressure on it.”

He nodded and did as he was told. Immediately, red seeped into the fabric. Mr Pleasure walked back into the room. 

“An ambulance is coming. He’ll be alright.”

Sabina raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“He’ll probably be alright.”

“Dad, he’s bleeding out.”

“So will you be if you don’t be-”

“Edward!” interrupted Mrs Pleasure 

“Sorry Liz but-”

“Not that, Eddie, he’s walking up.”

Sabina looked down at the man in her lap once. His eyes were indeed open. 

“Mr Stanley?’ asked Brad nervously. 

“Alex” he breathed, his chest protesting, “he’s with a man-” he coughed wetly. “a russian, Peter Anatol, he-” he coughed again, and this time blood dribbled out over his chin. The sound of sirens began in the distance. “he’s in Miami, there’s these drugs-”

“We know,” Sabina cut across him, “Sir Friend told us.” 

Stanley nodded, “Good. Good.” blood dribbled out again. “They - blackmail.”

“We know that too.” said Edward kindly, “save your strength. The ambulance is coming.”

“Friend - he doesn’t know everything.” blood was now a steady flow from his mouth, “He’s looking for Alex- I told him-another russian. Prison-escape-”

His eyes closed again, his breathing laboured. The Pleasures looked at each other, confused. 

A second later, three paramedics rushed into the room with a stretcher.

“Move back, move back.” 

They did so, and watched as the three paramedics mounted the man onto the stretcher and wheeled him out of the house, applying white patches and tubes to various parts of his body as they went. Sabina looked down at her hands, they were covered in the man’s blood. 

“Here.” Brad passed her the towel which had been covering the man’s wound. Some of it was still white and she wiped her hands on the clean bit. 

“Thanks.”

“Who do you think he was talking about? Another russian looking for Alex?” asked Brad

“I only know one other russian and he’s dead; Yassen Gregorovich” said Sabina, nonplussed.

“Maybe it’s someone who knew him, this other russian?”

“Could be,” Sabina said thoughtfully, sitting down on the sofa. “But I don’t know why they’d have an interest in Alex. It’s not as if-” she stopped mid sentence and clutched Brad’s arm tightly. 

“What? What is it?”

“What if they blame Alex for Gregorovich dying? What if they want revenge?” A cold shiver went through her as she spoke her suspicious aloud. “What if they know this Anatol guy too? What if they’re working together and Alex doesn’t know he’s been found out?”

She looked up at Brad. His pale and scared face mirrored her own. 

“We need to find Alex.” he said grimly, “before it’s too late.”

The next day dawned bright and way, way to early in Eagles opinion the following morning as K-Unit trudged down to the canteen. B-Squadron were already there, tucking into large bowls of what looked like porridge. 

“Hey Eagle!” called Gun when there were only a few metres away, “ready to get your ass kicked?”

“Despite what Bear says, I don’t think my arse would benefit for being kicked.” he replied jovially, sliding onto the bench next to Apache. “It does well enough as it is, thank you.”

“I’m sure it does.” muttered Apache absentmindedly. 

“What’s for breakfast?” Bear asked, ignoring the comment from the american. 

“It looks like porridge.” said Snake suspiciously, frowning at the container. 

“If it looks like porridge, smells like porridge and tastes like porridge, it’s usually not porridge in my experience of SAS cooking.” Eagle said, peering at the substance.

“Well, you’ve not had Delta Force cooking,” said Charge grinning, “it’s porridge I promise. There’s just one reason why us americans are better than you brits.”

“You’re right,” said Wolf, cutting across Charge and spooning the porridge into his bowl, “there is just one reason why you’re better than us.”

“Oh yeah?” challenged Ghost, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, the only good thing about america is the sun.”

“That is not true, we have way better things than you do.” protested Apache loudly.

“Like what?” said Eagle, folding his arms

“Cronuts.” said Apache simply

“Yeah, well we can drink at 18.”

“We can drive at 16.”

“We have the Queen.”

“Some old lady in a hat? Dude, please, we have the real queen; Beyonce.”

“Apache, your gay is showing.”

“Well, we have Greggs sausage rolls.”

“Who the hell is Greg?”

“And English breakfast.” 

“We have broadway.”

“We have the Westend.”

“We have Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

“We have Andrew LLoyd Webber”

“We don’t have a housing shortage.”

“We don’t have gun crime.”

“We-” 

“Eagle, Apache, enough.” said Wolf finally, putting his hand on Eagles shoulder. 

“But Wolf-”

“No, enough’s been said, it’s obvious we’re better than them in every way. There’s no need to rub it in. Besides-”

“Now hang on,” said Ghost, interrupting. “That’s”

“I’m glad to see you’re all getting on so well.” came a voice from above them. They looked up to see Lieutenant Carmicheal standing there, his arms crossed. “But I need to see Ghost in my office immediately.” 

“Sir, yes Sir.”

He walked away, beckoning for Ghost to follow.

Ghost looked at them all, resigned, pushing his empty bowl of porridge away. “I better go see what he wants. It’s probably not anything good. Once you’re finished breakfast you can all head down to the gun range. You don’t need me for that, but I might be back anyway. Good luck boys.” he patted Gun on the shoulder, “No pressure of course Gun, but just know, if you don’t beat the Brits, you’re sleeping outside for the next week.” He gave Gun a cheery smile and a wave before heading off to follow the Lieutenant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've not been around for a good while, sorry. 
> 
> I'll try and be more frequent with uploading but honestly, I have so much work to do. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, exciting things are coming I promise. 
> 
> Have Brad and Sab got the right idea about Alex or are they completely wrong? Who knows?
> 
> Have a very Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and if you don't have a wonderful day anyway.


	14. Fourteen

They reached the theatre a little under an hour later. Amaliya had joined them just as they had been about to set off and now sat opposite Anatolievich and himself, her square features stoic and unfeeling. Her too small eyes roamed the interior of the car as if looking for a threat of some kind. The car journey had been quiet and uncomfortable; the russian’s knee brushing Alex’s every time they hit a small bump and despite the amount of room in the back of the limousine, each time they turned a corner Anatolievich leant close into Alex’s side. As much as he found himself wanting to jump out of the car when this happened, or at the very least pull away from the man, Alex determinedly stayed where he was and even reciprocated the movement. 

Much to Alex’s surprise, instead of picking up some fancy foreign cuisine, they’d gone to a nearby fast-food drive-thru and got cheese burgers, fries and churros. Anatolievich loved american fast food and disliked the traditional dishes of his home country. Alex had wolfed down his gratefully embraced the coke which Joseph had bought him. They’d eaten in the back of the car and Alex had just finished when they pulled up outside a magnificent building. It wasn’t too tall, but it was vast; the front ordained with gold and red carvings. Alex gaped at it. 

“I see the theatre pleases you Alexander.” 

He turned to see Anatolievich watching him with an expectant smile on his face.

“It’s beautiful,” he said honestly, “I can’t wait to see what the inside is like.”

They stepped out of the car and walked inside. Alex gave Joseph a small wave of farewell and a quickly mouthed ‘sorry’ as he was guided into the theatre, Anatolievich’s hand firmly at the small of his back. 

“Now, I hope you don’t mind Alexander but Monte- that is, Mr Lindsay will be accompanying us this evening.”

Alex shook his head. “Of course not, does he enjoy the theatre?”

“I believe so, there are only a few of us left who really appreciate art and beauty for what it is, in any form that it might come.”

It was a strange response Alex thought and he smiled up at the man awkwardly. Anatolievich was staring at him, a predatory gleam in his eye. Alex looked back down at his new shoes, trying to avoid his gaze and let himself be led up the carpeted steps inside the theatre. Alex noticed that Anatolievich’s brutish assistant hadn’t accompanied them and he gave Anatolievich an enquiring look. 

“Unfortunately, Amaliya isn’t one of those people who appreciates the arts,” Anatolievich explained, seeing Alex’s expression, “she will wait outside with the chauffeur.” 

Alex felt sorry for Joseph, he wouldn’t have liked to spend more than ten minutes in the company of Amaliya, the car ride had been enough for him.

“And what about Mr Lindsay, Sir?” 

“Monte is already inside” Anatolievich said briskly, opening the door to the balcony for him, “we will be with him shortly.”

Two minutes later, which had seemed more like two hours to Alex, what with Anatolievich’s hand seemingly being permanently placed on the small of Alex’s back, they reached the balcony room where their private box was located. 

“After you, Alexander,” said Anatolievich grandly, holding the door open for Alex. His right arm was stretched over the top of the door, keeping it wide open so Alex had no choice but to duck underneath the arm, forcing proximity between the two of them. 

“Ah,” said Mr Lindsay loudly as they walked in, “Pytor and... Alexander was it? I’m glad you’re here, I was starting to get worried.”

“We stopped at a drive-thru to pick up some lunch-” Anatolievich said warmly, his hand gravitating to Alex’s shoulder, “Alexander quite forgot to eat this afternoon.” As he finished his sentence, his forefinger reached up to brush up the side of Alex’s cheek slowly.

“Yes, well…” Lindsay said awkwardly. Obviously he was uncomfortable with Anatolievich’s show of affection, though decidedly less so than Alex was. The lights in the theatre dimmed a second later and a voice rang out across the room telling people to take their seats. Anatolievich gestured to the chair next to Lindsay and Alex sat obediently as the russian sank into the last available seat. Sitting between the two men Alex felt suddenly trapped and a wave of claustrophobia crashed over him, his mind going almost numb. Seconds later, he got it under control and took in a deep breath, looking around the theatre, trying not to focus too hard on the very dangerous men sitting either side of him. 

The play seemed to drag on for hours and hours, with only a small respite in the form of the interval where Alex took sweet relief in the fact that the acting had stopped. He did however, lament the loss of the distraction for the two men beside him. Anatolievich however, insisted on getting Alex a tub of ice cream which meant he was subsequently left in the company of Mr Lindsay who looked like he would rather be sat next to a human sized dung beetle instead of Alex. 

“So, Mr Lindsay,” he began awkwardly when Anatolievich had left to flag down a member of the front of house team, “how are you enjoying the play?”

Lindsay looked at him without turning his head, glancing out of the side of his eye. He didn’t reply for several moments, and when Alex thought he was going to be ignored completely, he spoke. 

“I am enjoying it very much, Alexander.” he said, surprisingly amiably, “you I think, not so much?”

Had he been that obvious? Alex forced himself not to panic at being found out however and instead plastered a smile onto his face. 

“I do enjoy the theatre,” he explained slowly, ”I’m just getting a little confused with all the characters, and it’s been a long couple of days for me.”

Lindsay nodded and went back to staring at nothing, then said in what was obviously a forced attempt at conversation, “What have you been up to that is so….” he seemed to fish around for the correct word, looking about, “taxing?” 

Alex wondered how much he should tell him, and then decided on the entire cover story, that was why it was there wasn’t it? And the typical teenage urge to overshare would help convince the man he was sure.

“Well, some kind of threats were made against my family-” 

Lindsay cut him off abruptly, holding up a hand “Who is your family? Mr Anatolievich mentioned but I seem to have forgotten.”

“My dad’s David Friend?” He posed it as a question, “He’s a supermarket billionaire.”

Lindsay nodded, “I’ve heard of him I think. Good friend’s with the British PM?” 

“That’s right.” Alex said calmly, he remembered Dr Grief mentioning their affiliation, “anyway” he continued, “We all had to go into protection, My sister Fi will be hating it and I know it makes me a bad person, but that makes me a little bit happy. But it was more difficult because I was over here you see - in Washington and the people in charge of my dad's security obviously couldn’t come here so my dad asked Mr Anatolievich for help.”

Lindsay took all of it in, a slightly shocked expression on his usually passive face. 

“But why couldn’t the CIA or the US military do something?” he asked curiously

“One of the people who tried to kidnap Fi was in the CIA,” Alex explained matter-of-factly, without missing a beat “and my dad hasn’t trusted many people since I was almost killed in France, and my he knows Mr Anatolievich somehow and thought it would be safer.”

Lindsay nodded slowly, “and now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here.” Alex repeated 

There was silence for a few moments until Lindsay broke it again. 

“Hey kid?” His tone was almost friendly, the man’s attitude had changed within minutes, either Lindsay decided Alex was trustworthy or he had decided he wasn’t.

Alex looked up. 

“What school did you go to in Washington? You might know my step son.”

Alex sincerely doubted it, he’d only been there for a morning and he didn’t remember anyone with the surname Lindsay. He cast his mind back, what was the name of the school? Mr Lindsay looked at him expectantly. 

“St Albans, it’s in D.C.”

Mr Lindsay’s eyebrows rose in surprise, Alex guessed that this must mean his son went there too. It would be no good if he asked him about Alex, the boy would probably never even have heard of him and his cover would be blown, though from the way Lindsay had talked about the kid, there was little love lost between them. 

“Is that right?” Lindsay said thoughtfully, “You might know him, though actually come to think of it he might be a couple of years older, how old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Shock was apparent in Lindsay’s eyes and he moved closer to Alex, shifting in his seat. His breath wafted over Alex’s face, it smelt like garlic. 

“Seriously?” 

Alex’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch and he felt ill. He kept his voice steady however as he replied, “Yeah, I know I look younger, everyone says it.” 

“He might be in your year but he doesn’t use my surname, little brat. He goes by Georges Harrison?”

A stone felt like it had just been dropped into Alex’s stomach and panic set over him. His mind made the connection instantly. Georges, from Belgium with the mother who had married a loud, boorish man who hated him. Lindsay, who’s step son had gotten thrown out of different schools for listening at doors. Georges who had anxiety- and no wonder with a man like Lindsay for a stepfather. 

“Oh yeah, I know Georges.” Alex said calmly, trying to force a normal and light tone into his voice, “we’re good friends actually.”

Lindsay’s eyebrows raised. “I don’t think he’s ever mentioned-”

Lindsay stopped mid sentence as Anatolievich returned to their little booth. He held out a pot of ice cream to Alex who took it gratefully.

“I hope you two are getting on?” the russian asked, noting the abrupt silence. 

“Oh yes,” Lindsay said a little too quickly, “turns out that Alexander knows my step son, Georges.”

“Oh really? Now that’s a coincidence and a half, we’ll have to bring the boy out here in a week or two, I don’t want Alexander getting bored shut up with just us two for company, I’m sure he’ll appreciate someone his own age.” 

Alex was about to point out that he was in fact here and part of the conversation, but kept his mouth shut and focused on his ice cream, heart pounding. Would Georges blow his cover? Would Anatolievich try and- he didn’t want to put Georges in any more danger than he already was just by knowing Alex.

Lindsay gave Anatolievich a look which the russian didn’t see but did not go unmissed by Alex. He obviously knew of the man’s reputation around boys Alex and Georges’ age and was hesitant to even subject his hated step son to it. 

“I’m sure I won’t be too bored that quickly,” Alex said hurriedly, obviously Lindsay didn’t want to contradict Anatolievich, “I’m quite good at entertaining myself.” 

Anatolievich opened his mouth to reply, but the lights in the theatre dimmed and the stalls were thrown into darkness, Act two was about to commence, though Alex knew he wouldn’t be paying much attention to it. He needed to work out what to do if Anatolievich did decide to ship Georges to Miami. Should he try and finish the mission quickly? Or could he count on Georges not to slip up and mention that he’d only known Alex for less than a day? His mind was full of questions and half baked solutions, each one even worse than the last and he stared blankly at the stage, trying not to show the turmoil which was happening on the inside. 

Mrs Jones and Alan Blunt were once again sat opposite Joe Byrne in a small office. They hadn’t returned to England yet. Joe wondered whether they were taking a small vacation together. Holiday as the brits called it. Somehow he doubted it, Alan Blunt didn’t look like the type of man to lie on a sunbed rubbing suncream into his chest whilst ordering a Pina Colada. No, he looked more like the type of man who’s favourite programme was The News.

“So, here we are again.” Joe began, trying to inject a light and breezy tone into his voice, as what they were about to discuss was anything but, “a lot has happened in the past two days.”

“Indeed it has, Deputy Director,” said Blunt, his voice emotionless, “the first issue is of course Alex Rider.”

Joe was surprised by this and he let it show on his face, “What about him?”

“I’m not sure he has the will nor the motivation to carry out this mission as effectively as we hoped he would.” Blunt said, bluntly. 

“Oh?”

“Alex only has our word to go on about the things which Anatolievich is behind, I think it would be prudent to show him a taste of what Anatolievich is capable of.”

Joe sat back in his chair, “It’s a bit late now Alan to show the boy photos and crime reports, if you’d-”

“We’re not talking about showing the boy photos.” Interjected Mrs Jones, cutting him off mid-sentence. “We have something else in mind, in fact, it’s already in place.”

“So what are you planning?” asked Joe interestedly, knowing these two, it was something that he probably wouldn’t agree with. 

“Based on reports from agents and our surveillance in Miami, Anatolievich will, at some point go against Sir David’s instructions and take Alex out into the city. This is when we’ll set it all up. We’re going to kidnap Alex. Don’t worry we won’t ask your lot to do it - Interpol owes us a favour. They'll take him to the heart of one of Anatolievich’s operations and he’ll get to see first hand what’s happening out there. Then we’ll send him back to Anatolievich, saying that Friend paid the ransom, it’s as simple as that.”

Alarm bells were ringing in Joe’s head but he wasn’t sure why. Something didn’t sound quite right about all this. There had to be something more. But Mrs Jones had already begun speaking again.

“On a different matter, we have new intelligence that Sir David Friend paid a visit to Alex’s foster family yesterday.”

Joe’s eyebrows rose.

“Now we don’t know how much he told them,” she continued, “or even if he’s broken the official secrets act but I think we need to keep an eye on the Pleasures and their movements in the next few days, especially the daughter - Sabina’s. She’s proved quite resourceful in the past.” 

“I hope you’re not planning on recruiting her too.” Joe murmured under his breath.

The two MI6 workers in front of him ignored him and Blunt picked off where Mrs Jones had left off, “They have also had a visit I believe, from Lieutenant Stanley.” 

Joe cast his mind back thinking. The name rang a bell but he wasn’t sure where he’d heard it before, then he remembered. 

“The chap who you sent to Baskerville?” he asked puzzled, “But he’s only just arrived there! The paperwork came through this morning.” Baskerville was the name of what was essentially MI6’s personal prison. It was where they housed high security prisoners who would be capable of escaping pretty much anywhere else. It was where Julius Grief had been held before his transferral to their facility in Gibraltar, it was where Lieutenant Stanley had been held - until the early hours of this morning, apparently.

“Seven hours, that’s how long it took for him to escape.” said Mrs Jones, unabashedly. “He had help of course but still an impressive feat. He was, however shot on his way out, how he managed to get back into the U.S we don’t know yet, but we do know that he turned up at the Pleasure’s house sometime after 12pm. We don’t think he could have told them much before he was rushed to hospital - nothing Friend didn’t already tell them anyway - but it’s possible that he told them about who helped him escape Baskerville.”

“Ah,” said Joe, slowly, he had read the report on the escape seconds before the meeting began. “oh dear.”

“Precisely.” 

“And then there is the matter of what happens now,” Blunt said, “if he goes after Alex-”

“The whole operation could be blown.” Joe chimed in, nodding. “Could we warn Alex?”

“I don’t think it would do much good, Deputy Director.”

“What about putting some agents in Miami,” he suggested, “double the police on the streets?”

“There’s a high chance that Anatolievich will notice if we do that,” said Mrs Jones wisely, “he may relocate and we can’t afford to lose the undercover discreet surveillance which has already been ongoing these past few months. We can’t let Gregorovich’s escape be known to the public and Anatolievich may assume they’re there for him and then-”

“Then the whole operation is blown.” Joe finished for her resignedly, he scratched the back of his head as he often did when he was thinking.

“Then I say we get our best people onto finding him, Delta Force maybe? It’s unlikely that they’ll succeed, the only reason we caught him last time was because he was practically on the brink of death. If his reputation is anything to go by, he won’t make a blunder like exposing Alex. And you never know, Alex might be the key in recapturing him again.” 

Mrs Jones nodded in agreement. Alan Blunt just sat there, as passive as ever. 

“If we’re done here then?”

They stood in unison and Joe walked them to the door. 

“Goodbye,” Joe said politely, “hopefully we won’t be seeing each other again anytime soon.”

Joe closed the door and strode back over to his desk, sitting down in the plush leather chair behind it. He closed his eyes and rubbed his aching temples. Those two really were a headache. He thought back to their plan for Alex. He hadn’t had time or wanted to ask for further details, but something still seemed off about the whole thing. He pushed it away, he’d think about it later. Perhaps with a nice cup of hot chocolate. He had more important things to do now however. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialled the number for Fort Bragg. The Delta force squadron wasn't just muscle, they had brains as well as brawn and were used to this kind of man-hunt, and if he remembered correctly there was an SAS team there too. They might come in handy. He groaned inwardly, thinking about the imminent conversation with Lieutenant Carmicheal, he’d much prefered Stanley. The man picked up on the second ring. 

“Hello, Lieutenant Carmicheal speaking.”

“Lieutenant - listen, it’s Deputy Director Joe Byrne here from the Covert Actions Division of the CIA.”

“Sir, how can I help?”

“We have a job for your people and we need your very best. This operation is probably the most important you’ll ever complete in your entire career. The stakes are high, higher than mount everest.” 

“Yes sir.” Came Carmicheal’s abrupt reply, “My top squadron are in the middle of an international training regime at the moment but-”

“With the SAS?” Joe cut in, “Yes, I know, pull them out of it, this operation is of vital importance. It involves a high risk prisoner who has escaped from Baskerville in the U.K so we might as well get both teams onto it. In fact, he escaped with the very man you replaced, but I don’t believe they’re travelling together. They’re both in the States, that’s all we know. I’ll send someone over with the full files and everything you will need to know to catch him. He’s highly trained and highly dangerous, we don’t want your teams getting too close if possible.”

“Yes sir.” Came the swift reply again, “who’s the prisoner in question?”

“I’m surprised you’ve not heard. It's Gregorovich, Yassen Gregorovich, and he’s looking for Alex Rider.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I'm so very very sorry. I'll try and update much quicker than I have been, and with longer, more interesting chapters.
> 
> We have some good news though folks! I have actually formulated some kind of actual plot, I know how things will kind of tie together more now and yay!! things are happening in my brain. *gasp*
> 
> Sorry this one has taken ages, and that it's a tad short and I think its a little obvious near the end but eh who cares? I'm leaving the Yassen tag out cause y'know everyone loves a surprise. But considering he's everyone's favourite character (or should be) people should just really expect him to turn up in fics now right? 
> 
> Also, y'know what I realised folks? I named a character Georges Harrison. :/ I swear I don't even like the Beatles that much but maybe the name just sounded good in my head and I didn't think about it until it was waay waay to late. Maybe I'll make that a thing you know. I think Mr Horowitz would be proud of that level of kinda name though. At least I hope so.
> 
> In other news, HAS ANYONE READ NIGHTSHADE YET? I LOVE IT OH MY GOD. There was 1 mistake I spotted but oh my lord this book Is actually my new favourite of the series. I know, even better than Scorpia. 
> 
> If you've read it, I need someone to obsess with so please comment!! I mean please comment anyway it's what fuels me and rereading some of your praise made me get off my arse and do some writing so yeah, you guys make the magic happen.
> 
> And we still don't have a release date for the TV show! Can you believe that? I'm actually going stir-crazy here also I tried that Scorpia bunker game on Anthony Horowitz's website and I'm either really fucking thick or it's really hard. Probably the former. 
> 
> Also Oh my God guys I finally got round to reading The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (the 98 chapter fic) you know like the main one for this fandom and if you haven't read it, I- dude you need to. It's honestly one of the best things I've ever read. It's a little daunting at first 98 chapters and boy, they're not short either, but read it, we're in isolation what else are you gonna do? Read my shitty little fanfic? No you're gonna go read pongnosis' absolute masterpiece of a fic.
> 
> Sorry, I'm really not selling my story here am I? Oh well, just read Nightshade and read the fic. Please.
> 
> I hope everyone is well, I hope you like this chapter, and I hope that we call all get through this whole corona thing unscathed. 
> 
> I love you all, please comment cause it makes my day, or night, or y'know whenever I read them. It's currently 5am here and I really should be asleep. Being back home is weird, my dad's told me to sleep twice tonight already - also it's not acceptable to eat ten hash browns in one sitting here? What madness is this? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy, I'm sending out all my love (which is a fair amount of love it has to be said) and I hope all of you can eat ten hash browns without getting judged. Goodnight!


	15. Fifteen

Ghost followed the Lieutenant to his office wondering what the man wanted. It might just be a check up to evaluate the progress of the two units compatibility to to work together, Stanley had said they would have to make regular updates after all, but by the hard lines of the man's face he suspected it could be something more. His mind wandered back to the note Lieutenant Stanley had left on his chair. 

MI6. Blunt. Anatolievich. Miami. Get kid out. 

The two unknown people who had escorted the kid they’d rescued out were undoubtedly MI6 and they had arrested the Lieutenant for trying to tell Ghost about...something which they were planning. And that was the odd thing, Stanley had been one of the most professional men Ghost had ever known, it wasn’t like him to randomly decide to break protocol and suddenly blurt out top secret information. The kid had nodded when B-Squadron had asked if Sir Friend was his father, but he had looked much more like he was on his way to the gallows than a kid who’d been rescued and was on his way back home to his family. And who was Anatolievich? It was a russian name for sure, but Stanley had written Miami and that was in Florida. It was all too confusing and Ghost didn’t know what he was meant to do to help. 

They reached Lieutenant's office and Ghost stood at attention like usual before being told to sit down. It was strange to see another man behind the desk where Lieutenant Stanley had used to sit. There was silence in the room as Carmicheal inspected him. Ghost decided to break the silence first.

“What’s this about sir?”

Carmicheal glared at him for a second before conceeding. “I’ve just had a telephone call from the Covert Actions Division of the CIA.” Carmicheal said simply.

Ghost’s eyebrows raised, whatever he had been expecting, this wasn’t it. 

“Sir?”

“There’s an extremely high profile operation they’d like us to complete, and I've been told to pull both B Squadron and the british SAS unit out of your international relations exercise.” 

“How come they want the Brits involved in this too?” Ghost asked, confused, “surely the CIA don’t have any kind of jurisdiction over them?” 

“They don’t,” said the Lieutenant slowly, “but MI6 is heavily involved in this operation as well.”

Oh right, that made sense. 

“So what’s the operation?”

“I’ll hand over all the case files to you shortly, but I may as well explain it briefly to you now, it may help us get a head start. Two men escaped from Baskerville prison in England this morning-”

“Baskerville?” Ghost asked confused, “isn’t that from Sherlock Holmes?”

Once again, Ghost found himself on the recieving end of a glare from the Lieutenant across the desk. “Yes, it is, but it’s also a high security facility in Dartmoor for those which MI6 deems too dangerous to keep in a regular prison. And I will kindly ask you not to interrupt me again before I am finished.”

Ghost nodded, opened his mouth to apologise and shut it again, he wasn’t sure if that counted as interrupting. The Lieutenant didn’t seem to notice as he continued on, “One of the men was your old Lieutenant - Cuthbert Stanley, it is believed that he was wounded in his escape but has made his way back into the U.S.A.” 

Ghost couldn’t help the look of surprise which had no doubt fallen across his face, Lieutenant Stanley was a fugitive? It had only been the day before yesterday he was here at Fort Bragg ordering them about as usual.

“I can see you’re shocked by this, but don’t worry we’re not asking you to hunt him down.” Carmicheal shuffled some papers formally, “We know where he is, and he’ll be in custody very shortly.” 

This did not comfort Ghost one bit. Could this mean that whatever this top priority operation was was linked to the kid? Stanley was going to risk his job to tell him about the kid - would he risk a prison break and his life for him as well? Carmicheal had said that MI6 were involved too so it was possible that the two were connected...

Lieutenant Carmicheal’s voice brought him back to the present and he focused his eyes on the man, his mind working overtime. 

“The other man who escaped is who we want you to find. His name is Yassen Gregorovich, he is a very dangerous man, have you heard of him?”

Ghost shook his head. Another russian though? Was it possible that Gregorovich and this other man Stanley had mentioned, Anatolievich were connected? 

“No, I don’t see why you would have. He worked as an assassin for the criminal organisation Scorpia for almost twenty years, until an operation went wrong and he was shot almost fatally in the chest. He’s been kept in Baskerville for about a year. To anyone outside of the very top branches of MI6, Gregorovich is dead.” Carmicheal handed him a picture of an attractive man who looked to be in his early thirties, with blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin. 

“Alright,” said Ghost, hoping that this didn’t count as an interuption, “and he’s in the states?”

Carmicheal nodded “It appears so.”

“Do we have any idea where he might go?” he asked, “Or even why he’s escaped now instead of earlier? And why did he break Stanley out with him?”

Carmicheal looked up at him, his eyes steely. “That is why this operation is so high profile.”

The Lieutenant handed him another file, it was thin and marked almost comically, ‘TOP SECRET’ there couldn’t have been more than two pages in the file and for a high profile case that was odd. Ghost knew what that must mean - most of the information in here was redacted. 

“This is Alex Rider,” the Lieutenant explained as Ghost opened the file. Ghost stared at the picture inside, it was the kid they had rescued, the level 10 priority civilian. His brown eyes started out of the image, too serious for his age. If his name was Rider why had he pretended Sir Friend was his father? And what was he doing mixed up with assassins like Gregorovich? He’d seemed like a nice kid. He’d barely had time to look at the image before his attention was brought back to Carmicheal. 

“As you know, two days ago B-Squadron was sent on an operation to retrieve him after he’d been kidnapped from his school in San Francisco by the same organisation Gregorovich used to work for. You were asked to forget he ever existed, to put him from your mind, well, you’re going to need to put him firmly back in. I’m not allowed to tell you details, and quite frankly, I don’t know any details to tell you if I wanted to. All we know is that Gregorovich is probably looking for this kid and he’s not the sort of person who is going to give up readily.”

“Why do they think he’s after the kid? And what would a man like Gregorovich want with him?” asked Ghost, this was going from mental to crazy, “Do they know each other?”

“I believe they do know each other, yes. Rider was mixed up with Scorpia in late August last year but I know he’s had dealings with the man in the past.” Ghost couldn’t believe what he was hearing, a kid mixed up with assassins and Scorpia? Misreading the look on Ghost’s face he continued quickly, “don’t worry, Rider isn’t a danger to you or the government - I’ve been assured, but looking at his track record…” Carmicheal trailed off, a curious expression on his face, then he seemed to regain himself, "but anyway we need you to find Gregorovich before he finds Rider. When Gregorovich and Stanley escaped they were overheard discussing the boy and the names of his foster family were mentioned. But our problem is, we’re not allowed to know where Rider is, it’s confidential information, apparently.” Carmicheal looked annoyed, “Even if it’s to help catch a dangerous assassin, we’re not allowed to know. We also don’t know yet for sure whether the man means Rider any harm. MI6 seems to believe he doesn’t, though with a man like Gregorovich, we simply can’t be sure.”

Ghost resited the urge to put his head in his hands. They were being given next to no information about the case, and they had to find one highly trained man when he could be anywhere in the country? It was madness.

“Do we have any idea where Gregorovich is now?” he asked hopefully.

“No, I’m afraid not. We’ve put a protection detail around Rider’s home address and we have every law enforcement officer in the country on the lookout. We have helicopters up in the air and every agency is on high alert but SIS don’t think it will do much good.”

He handed a stack of files to Ghost, “This contains information about the Rider boy and Gregorovich, though as you can see most has been redacted for security reasons, but all the information the CIA and MI6 think you will need should be in there. You have two hours to go over the information with B-Squadron and K-Unit and see what they make of all this, then I want you out of Fort Bragg. You will, of course, have backup available to you and as other squadrons are on routine assignments and not operations, we’re pulling them out of their priors to be on standby; they will all be at your disposal. If any of the Squadron leader’s have a problem with you taking charge, tell them they can take it up with me.” 

Ghost stood, picked up the files with his left hand and saluted with his right, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good, dismissed.” 

Ghost turned to the door, his mind reeling. 

“Oh, Ghost?”

He turned back to Carmicheal. “I get the impression that this operation is a bit of a wild goose chase, I don’t think they expect us to succeed.” His tone was sobering, but it was a change from the harsh, brutal manner in which he’d conducted himself so far. “Let’s prove them wrong.”

Ghost deposited the files in B-Squadron’s barracks and tried to come to grips with all the information he’d just been told. The kid they had rescued, this Alex Rider, was being searched for by one of the world's most renowned assassins, and it wasn’t clear what the russian’s intent was when he found him. And no one knew where either the boy or Gregorovich was. What Carmicheal didn’t know however, was that Ghost and B-Squadron had been given a clue - Miami. He wasn’t sure whether he should have told the Lieutenant about Stanley’s tip. If Stanley had decided to confide in Gregorovich during their break out from Baskerville, then he would know that the kid was in Miami and mixed up with a man named Anatolievich. And the question was, did Gregorovich know this Anatolievich? And why wasn’t SIS scouring Miami looking for Greogorovich if they knew that’s where the kid was and- 

Ghost took a deep breath. He hated the world of spies and espionage, it was all too political. He left the barracks and jogged down to the shooting range to find Gun and Eagle shooting long distance from the floor, the rest of their units egging them on. Charge saw Ghost approaching and walked over to him, his uniform was covered in sand from the shooting range floor.

“They’re neck and neck and it’s down to the last six shots. Eagle has had a dozen arguments with Apache already, you can practically see steam coming out of his ears.” he said excitedly, 

“With Apache? Why? He’s shooting against Gun.”

“Apache keeps putting him off,” Charge grinned devilishly, “I think Eagle fancies him, and I’d say Apache probably fancies him too, he’s just his type.”

“What?” asked Ghost, laughing. “Looks incompetant, but is actually very good?” 

“He’d have to be good to keep up with Gun.” Charge acknowledged, winking.

“Are we talking about shooting or sex now?” 

“Both I think, it’s easy to get them confused.” Charge said casually, “Hey, what did the Lieutenant want?”

“We have an important operation,” Ghost said quietly, “we have two hours to formulate our first move and then we need to move out of Fort Bragg.” 

Charge looked at him in surprise, “But what about the international thingy? I thought that was like, the most important thing ever? Will they go back to England?” he asked, gesturing at K-Unit. 

“No, this is a joint operation, we’re teaming up.”

Charge grinned widely, “Nice,” he said drawing the word out, “I’ll get to see these boys in action. They-”

He was cut off by a sudden shout from Eagle. “You knocked me!” He all but shouted at Apache, “that’s cheating.”

“I did not knock you!” the man defended hotly, “Buddy, all I did was lightly tap you on the shoulder.”

“You threw off my shot, buddy!” 

“Now, why would I do that? We don’t need to cheat for Gun to beat you anyway.” 

Eagle glared at him, picked up the DMR rifle he had been shooting with and emptied the remaining bullets into the target without pause. 

“Wow, nice shooting” said Gun, his eyebrows raised, looking genuinely impressed, “who did you imagine was the target?”

“Oh,” said Eagle nonchalantly, getting up from the ground, turning to stand very close to Apache and then said pointedly, “just someone I don’t like very much.” 

“Alright, enough.” Ghost shouted as Apache squared up to Eagle, preparing for a fight, “we have an important assignment. Get cleaned up and meet me in our barracks in 20. You too, Tommy boys.”

He turned and walked back toward the barracks, leaving the rest of the soldiers to squabble. 

“Look,” he heard Eagle say from behind him, no doubt addressing Apache. “I could beat your lousy sharpshooter anytime-”

“Lousy!” came Gun’s outraged cry, “I’ll show you lousy!”

“Hey, wait!”

Ghost turned around to see Wolf jogging after him.

“What’s this about an operation? And how come we’re joining you? Is it part of this international relations bollocks?”

Ghost cracked a smile, “No, it’s not part of the relations stuff, it’s a joint operation between british and american intelligence and they wanted their best people on the job, and we’re here together anyway so...”

Wolf nodded, “What kind of operation is it? Retrieval?” It was the obvious assumption to make, with high profile assignments, it was usually a kidnapping of some sort. 

“Actually,” Ghost said, watching the man’s face for his reaction, “it’s more of a man-hunt.”

Wolf blinked, surprised, “A man-hunt?”

“Yeah, for a man named Yassen Gregorovich.”

“Who?”

“He’s an assassin that was employed by Scorpia, he broke out of a high security prison in the UK this morning - along with our previous Lieutenant.”

Wolf stopped in his tracks, touching Ghost’s arm to stop him too, “Your Lieutenant was in prison?” he asked incredulously, ”Why?”

“It’s a long story, I’ll brief you with the others when they arrive.” Ghost set off again, gesturing for Wolf to follow. “This man Gregorovich - he’s looking for a boy - one we rescued from a kidnapping two days ago actually.”

“Jesus, poor kid.”

“Tell me about it,” agreed Ghost grimly, “when he left here he looked - well he looked scared, which was strange because when he was kidnapped he was cool as anything, even wanted to stay and search where he’d been held himself.” 

“Is he from a wealthy family?” asked Wolf, “Maybe he’s been kidnapped before.”

“Well that’s what we all thought,” Ghost explained, “but then Sir David Friend turned up and-”

Wolf stopped again, a calculating expression fell over his face. “Wait, wait, hold up. David Friend? As in the multi-billionaire? The Supermarket guy?”

Ghost nodded.

“This kid,” Wolf said thoughtfully, “he wouldn’t happen to be about fifteen, blonde with an ear piercing?”

Ghost pondered this, “He’s blonde for sure, and he has a piercing in his ear, but if I had to guess I’d say he was younger than fifteen, he’s fairly small. His name is Alex Rider.”

“I don’t know his civilian name,” Wolf said, shaking his head, “do you have a photograph?”

“It’s back at the barracks, why? Don’t tell me you Brits all actually do know each other?”

“Maybe,” said Wolf thoughtfully, not really hearing the question, “I’ve just got an idea who it could be is all.”

Ghost looked at his watch, and set off once again toward their destination, Wolf following close behind, “Come on, we best get to the barracks before the rest of them get there.”

When they stepped out of the theatre it was almost completely dark. Alex was once again being needlessly guided by Anatolievich’s ever present right hand. Joseph and the car were still parked outside and Alex thought about how boring it must have been for him to wait for them. When they neared the limousine, Joseph saw them approaching and left his position in the driver’s seat, going over to the rear door and opening it. Amaliya was in the front passenger seat, her arms folded tightly and a scowl residing over her heavy features. Alex wondered what Joseph must have said to upset her - probably something along the lines of “Hi, I’m Joseph, who are you?”

Alex’s mind was still focused on Georges and he paid little attention to the conversation about the play Lindsay and Anatolievich were engaged in. They entered the car, Lindsay first then Anatolievich. Alex was about to step in until something caught his eye over the top of the veichle and he paused, one foot inside. It was his school secretary, Miss Sadie. But it couldn’t be, she was in the CIA’s custody, surely. B-Squadron had taken all his kidnappers back to Fort Bragg with Robert and the others. How had she escaped? 

“Alexander?” asked Anatolievich from inside the car “don’t dawdle or we’ll be late for dinner.”

Alex’s mind was, once again, reeling. His brain was trying to piece together the facts quicker than he could process them. He wanted to go follow Miss Sadie, to find out how she had escaped to find out what she was doing here. 

Alex heard Anatolievich sigh. “Alexander?” he repeated snappily, “I would appreciate it if you got inside the car.”

Alex nodded, ducking his head to enter the limo, he had a role to play, he couldn’t go after Miss Sadie now, no matter how much he wanted to. The mission was more important. 

Something hit the base of Alex’s neck and immediately he clapped a hand to it, thinking it was a mosquito, but as he reached back he found that something much larger was sticking out of his skin. It was about an inch long and it felt like metal, and even as he processed this information, he felt the thoughts slipping out of his grasp, slipping further and further away. All the sounds of the city became muted, and the light from the street lamps blurred together. He became faintly aware that he was falling backwards towards the pavement, but there was nothing he could do to stop himself, all his muscles seem to have turned to jelly. He became dimly aware of a sharp pain in his elbow, a screech of tyres and the feeling of someone pulling him roughly up from the ground and then, everything was black. The last thought running through his mind was - again, really? 

“Is this really necessary Alan?” asked Mrs Jones skeptically. 

Blunt looked at her from across his borrowed desk, his face blank and emotionless than ever. “I believe it is, Mrs Jones, we’ve told Alex about Anatolievich, but he still doesn’t really seem to grasp the severity. It was the same when he was on that operation for ASIS. He didn’t care that the Snakehead were committing atrocities, he only went to get to know his godfather.”

“And we know how well that went.” muttered Mrs Jones.

Blunt ignored her, “It was really only after he saw what was happening at the hospital and he himself was almost used for organ donation that he really got moving.”

Mrs Jones looked at her boss, shocked. “You can’t say Alex is selfish, that he only helps others when it would help himself-”

“I’m not saying the boy is selfish,” he said swiftly, cutting across her, “I’m simply suggesting that he is more effective once a danger has been demonstrated. There is a definite pattern you have to admit. That operation for the CIA last year, in Skeleton Key for instance - once Tom Turner and Belinda Troy had been killed, he was much quicker on his feet. And once again at Point Blanc, after his friend James Sprintz was targeted, and again when Drevin tried to kidnap his own son. He seems to have a bit of a saving people thing.” 

Mrs Jones was quiet, she couldn’t argue with that. It was true after all.

“Are the team in place?” Blunt asked her, not waiting for a reply. 

“They are.”

“As soon as they spot Alex in Miami, I want them to take action. There’s no point in waiting if there’s an opportunity open to us.”

Mrs Jones nodded. 

“Now that’s settled, I think it’s time to pay a visit to our friend downstairs.” Blunt rose from his seat motioning for her to follow him and walked to the door, “How is the former Lieutenant Stanley doing anyway?” 

“The doctors say that he’s stable and they should be able to take him off the ventilator anytime now.”

“Good.” he said thoughtfully, “he’ll be able to tell us just exactly how much he’s told Gregorovich.” 

When Alex woke, he was lying on a cold tiled floor, his hands bound tightly behind his back, his left cheek pressed hard against the ground. His head felt like it was full of cotton wool. He’d been drugged, and from the fact that he couldn’t move his arms, it had been up to the eyeballs. He lay there, semi-conscious for he didn’t know how long but it felt like ages until he was even able to open his eyes. He squinted, looking around, he was in a small high-ceilinged room, which was bare apart from a metal chair in the far corner, with peeling white paint, a single light bulb, a security camera, no window and a fully tiled floor. 

He tried to move his arms and almost screamed, previously the pain in his elbow had been muted by the drugs but as the effects were wearing off, it was coming back full force. Even if he could have moved his arm more than a few inches without hurting it, he was restricted by the thick length of rope which was wrapped tightly around his wrists.

The rope was fraying and scratchy, it tickled his skin roughly, even through his shirt. His suit jacket was missing. The same scratchy feeling was present around his neck, and he cursed silently. The rope around his wrists was attached to the one around his neck, and it was pulled tight. If he moved his hands more than an inch out from his body, he would strangle himself. A quick test of his ankles told him that they too were bound together. There wasn’t much he could do but lie here and wait for whoever it was who had kidnapped him to make themselves known. 

So he’d been kidnapped, again. The image of Miss Sadie flashed through his mind. He’d forgotten. Miss Sadie - or whatever her real name was was here in Miami. She must have somehow evaded capture, or escaped. But how did they know where he was? And he still didn’t have an answer to who they were. Fans of Scorpia MI6 had said, but who? 

As if someone was listening to his thoughts, the door swung open and Miss Sadie walked in, accompanied by two of the fake ambulance workers which had kidnapped Alex the first time. 

“Hello, Alex.” said Miss Sadie sweetly, bending down to ruffle his hair, “How are you?”

Alex glared at her. “Just peachy,” he said sarcastically, “and how are you Jean?”

She smiled, looking genuinely amused. “I’m well thank you Alex,” she clicked her fingers, pointing at the metal chair, “Boys.”

The two men which accompanied her hoisted him up off the floor, almost strangling him several times, his elbow protested and he had to bite his lip to prevent himself crying out. They deposited him roughly on the chair and he coughed, clearing his throat. They stood back, flanking Miss Sadie, standing either side of her like sentries. The taller of the two men lit a cigarette. 

“Where’s Robert?” he asked, interestedly, it seemed odd that the man wasn’t here, then again maybe he was still in custody. 

“Nevermind him, I’m the one doing the interrogating now.” her left arm struck out and he flinched, thinking he was going to be hit, but instead she just held his jaw in a surprisingly punishing grasp. “I don’t want to hurt you Alex, I’m not like my colleague, so I’d appreciate it if you cooperated nicely.”

Alex pulled an expression of deep thought, if he could have put his hand to his chin he would have, “I can’t really see that happening.” he said dryly “can you?”

This time when she lashed out, she really did hit him. His head would have cracked to the side if she hadn’t been holding his jaw in such a powerful grip. It made it hurt even more. She was surprisingly strong. 

“I said I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, squeezing his jaw, “but if I have to, I will. Are we clear?”

His cheek was smarting and her hand was preventing him from opening his mouth very far. “As day.” he forced out. 

“Good.” Miss Sadie said, releasing his chin and leaning back, “now who is the head of the special operations division of MI6?”

Alex thought about spitting in her face, but then he decided that he didn’t really care if someone knew who Blunt was, if they had an issue with the man, then it was probably well-founded. 

“Alan Blunt.” he said simply.

She raised an over plucked eyebrow. “Is that so? And who is his deputy?”

Alex thought about it, and then said, “I don’t know that I’m afraid.” 

“You don’t know?” she asked incredulously. 

“If I did, I’d tell you.” he tried to look scared and sincere, “I only ever met Mr Blunt. He assigned my missions.”

Miss Sadie looked at him calculatingly, “I’ll believe you for now. Tell me, is this Alan Blunt married?”

Alex would have shrugged if he could. “I don’t know,” he said again, “I asked him once but he didn’t tell me.” 

He had in fact asked Blunt if he was married when he was being taken to the COBRA meeting about Invisible Sword and the man had been secretive about his personal life. He remembered however, that Mrs Jones had mentioned something about him travelling with his wife around Europe. He didn’t know if it was true, but if it was, he didn’t want to put some unsuspecting woman in needless danger. 

“You don’t know a lot, do you Alex?” Miss Sadie asked patronisingly, “I think you might be lying to me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t think too much, I’m not sure your brain is ready for such a big change.” 

It wasn’t Miss Sadie who hit him this time but the shorter of the other two men who had, until now stood like bodyguards on either side of her. The punch was aimed for his solar plexus but Alex managed to twist so his stomach took to the full force of the blow instead. It winded him but he knew it was the better place to be hit. The power behind the punch pushed him out of the chair and onto the floor. Without his arms to break the fall, he landed on his chest, and if the punch hadn’t winded him, this certainly had. The fall was made worse by the fact that his hands had instinctively tried to come up to protect himself and he had inadvertently pulled on the rope which was looped round his neck. For several seconds until he realised what he had to do to prevent him from throttling himself, he lay there on the ground unable to breathe, his hurt elbow screaming at him. 

He heard rather than saw the guard step over him, the man’s heavy boots sounding in his ears, then suddenly he was being pulled up and backward by the connecting rope, his spine curving uncomfortably, the breath he had only just managed to get back taken away. The guards hand that wasn’t holding the rope came up to rest in his hair.

“You think you’re so clever don’t you?” The nameless man crooned in his ear, “Little brat.” he spat the last word, petting his hair roughly, “Poor Alex Rider who plays at being a hero, a pocket-sized spy, well you can stop the act, boy. You’ve murdered people in cold blood, and you know what you get for it? Praise! You’re no better than us so you can stop acting like it!” Black spots were appearing in Alex’s vision and he knew that he wouldn’t last much longer. 

He released the rope and his hair at the same time and Alex fell forward again, managing to twist so he landed on his good arm, sucking in great gulps of air thankfully. His face felt warm and his neck felt like it was on fire where the coarse rope had cut into it. He heard the door swing open, felt the vibrations of the three of them leaving and then heard a key turn in the lock. He lay on the floor, chest heaving as his lungs searched for oxygen. He didn’t even think about moving. 

It was about ten minutes later before he felt up to sitting up. He pushed himself into a seated position using a combination of the steel chair and his - what he suspected was - broken elbow. He needed to get out of here. If Anatolievich tried a rescue attempt, and Alex suspected he would, the man would soon find out that Alex wasn’t David Friend’s son. His best chance was to escape, make his way back to Anatolievich’s house and say he’d been kidnapped by some people wanting revenge on his father. Now, he only had to get out of here.

He looked around, though for what he wasn’t sure. Nothing in the room had been altered since they had entered, apart from the fact that the steel chair had moved a few inches. And then he saw it, the cigarette the taller man had been smoking. Alex glanced at the camera in the corner of the room. It looked old and was dusty but he couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t working. He had to keep what he was doing out of sight. 

He crawled over to the cigarette, trying to make it look like he was attempting to get more comfortable. As he moved he tried not to pull on the rope too much, his neck was still sore and felt like it might be bleeding. He examined the cigarette; the guard hadn’t had time to smoke it all and it was only about half finished. Alex maneuvered himself around and picked it up with his fingers, pointing the lit end up toward the rope. It was already fraying and after about a minute, he felt the first loop snap in half. Five minutes later his hands were free. He kept them behind his back in case they were watching him through the camera. 

His hands were free, the rope around his neck was annoying but no longer pulling, but his legs were still bound. It wouldn’t do much good if he could get out of the cell, he would never be able to hop out quick enough. The knots were tied too tightly for him to even think about simply undoing them. Even if he had nails he wouldn’t be able to. He looked around the room again and eventually decided on a plan. Once he had begun, he would have to work extremely quickly. He took a deep breath, and decided he may as well start now, there was no point in waiting. He kicked the chair so it was pointing towards the camera and pulled himself up onto it with a great effort. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back so as to not arouse suspicion which meant he had to wiggle around a lot, aggravating his left arm. Finally he was seated on the chair, legs folded into his body so he was curled in a ball. Now he had to move quickly, once his hands were revealed, they were sure to send someone in to stop his escape attempt. 

He twisted, gripped the back of the chair and stood, wobbling a little. He wrenched the rope from around his neck and worked as quickly as he could with his left arm out of action. Seconds later he held a small lasso in his hands. He almost grinned at what he was about to do. The ceiling was too high to reach just with the chair, if he had been half a foot taller maybe he would have managed it. He swung the lasso round like he had seen them do in old western films and then cast it off, aiming for the lightbulb. The first time he missed. He tried not to be too disheartened and knew he had to try again. On his second try, he managed it, the rope had circled around the bulb and tightened. Bracing himself, Alex pulled hard and with a small smashing sound, the glass bulb shattered. As soon as he had broken it, Alex covered his face with his hand, ducking. 

He was lucky however; none of the glass seemed to have hit him and he jumped down off the chair to grab the biggest shard he could find. Most of the bulb had scattered into tiny pieces no bigger than a fingernail but several pieces were bigger and he sorted through them. As soon as he’d found a sharp enough piece, he began to saw at the rope tying his ankles together. And then he heard it, the sound of shouting and running feet. He moved the sharp edge over the bonds more quickly and the first loop snapped. Alex heard the key in the door. He’d never make it, he’d only made the bonds a little looser. But that was all he needed. He slipped off his shoes and socks, pointed his feet and slipped them out of the rope just as the door opened. The two men who had accompanied Miss Sadie earlier were framed in the light from the hallway, and they were joined by the third fake paramedic from Lincoln High. 

He fell back into a defensive stance, then immediately wished he hadn’t. He’d stood in some of the small shards of bulb. There was no way he could fight these three on his own. None of them seemed to be armed, but he was injured with a foot full of glass, a broken elbow and had the disadvantage of being at least a foot smaller than all three of them. But his build could also be an advantage, he imagined Ian Rider telling him, it would make him quicker and more agile. Alex didn’t know about that, but he had no option but to try. As soon as the first guard moved forward, Alex lashed out, sending his fist into the man's solar plexus where he had tried to hit Alex earlier. The guard howled in pain. The blow itself hadn’t been that powerful, but the shard of glass that had been in Alex’s hand had buried itself deep into his flesh. The man had doubled over, clutching the wound and Alex seized the opportunity, bringing his knee up to the guard’s jaw, knocking him out. He fell to the floor. 

Alex cried out as the man fell. To knock the man out, he’d had to put all his weight on his right foot, the one filled with glass. The action had driven the shards deeper into it. The second man, the one who had been smoking moved forward cautiously. He adopted a stance that Alex recognised from Karate a Kiba-dachi or horse stance. Immediately an idea came to mind, a move that would allow him to put weight on his bad foot for only a second. He was mad to even try it, but he had no choice. He too moved into a fighting stance, but instead of raising his arms in front of himself, he moved them up and out to the side in a V formation above his head. He lifted his bad leg and bent his left. The guard moved closer to him and he struck, jumping upward, shifting the weight onto his right foot for a second, kicking out at the guard’s face with his left. The foot connected and the man staggered backwards, falling over his unconscious companion and with a sickening thud, the back of his head connected with the wall. He slid down it, joining his friend on the floor. 

Alex almost laughed. The move had been a stupid idea from a famous film, The Karate Kid, the illegal crane kick which was used in the final. He couldn’t believe it had worked. The third man Alex didn’t know came forward with apprehension. Alex was breathing heavily and his chest was burning, his skin warm, he didn’t know why, perhaps it was the adrenaline. The third guard threw a straight punch at Alex’s head and he dodged around it, blocking it with his right forearm. He took hold of it and dragged the man’s arm down, taking the body with it and bringing his knee up to the man's chest, once again putting pressure on his injured foot. The man was quick however and twisted out of Alex’s grasp like a snake, avoiding his knee. In retaliation he grabbed Alex’s broken left arm and pulled it into a half nelson behind his back. Alex let out a scream of pain and tried to wriggle out of it but the guard was much too strong. He kicked out with his feet and his right foot hit something cold and solid. The steel chair. 

Behind him, the man had taken out a radio. 

“I’ve got the kid, the little bastard knocked Murph and Toby out but I’ve got him. He-”

The guard didn’t get much further. Alex had taken the distraction of the radio and used it to his advantage. He’d gripped the back of the steel chair and swung it up and over as hard as he could at the man behind him. The chair hit the guard on the temple, but didn’t knock him out. Alex didn’t let him have time to recover before bending down, scooping the cigarette butt off the floor and pressing it into the exposed skin of the man’s forearm. The guard in front of him clutched the place where Alex had burnt him with his opposite hand and Alex dealt him the final blow. A knockout punch between the man's chin and ear. It was clumsily executed and Alex knew that his Sensei would have had a fit if he saw him punch like that, but he had no other choice. Suddenly, everything was warm, he was overheating, his chest hurt like he was being waterboarded and he coughed loudly. Now the adrenaline was fading, he was feeling ill. He staggered to the doorway, his eyes watering. Why did he feel this ill? Had they filled the room with a colourless toxin? Was it from the blood loss from his neck, wrists and foot? Or maybe it was the pain in his elbow. He was in no condition to escape now, he could barely see as he tried to move down the corridor away from the room he’d been held in. 

He fell to the floor just as he saw Miss Sadie and Robert heading down the corridor toward him. He tried to move away, lashing out at them helplessly but he was in no condition to fight now. He felt tears make their way down his cheeks and he felt the tell tale signs of unconsciousness setting in. He was awake long enough to hear Miss Sadie say one word, but one word was all he needed to realise that he’d been lied to all this time.

“Withdrawal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that update was much quicker than the last (yay). See, the coronavirus is good for some things?
> 
> Hopefully y'all understand what's happening now if you didn't before, but obviously Alex is gonna do the mental maths and put 2 and 2 together in the next chapter anyway if you don't. 
> 
> I'm not gonna lie to you I forgot how much I love writing fight scenes. They're just the best and I'll probably try and throw more in even when they're not really necessary. 
> 
> There was a fair amount of whamgst in this chapter and…yeah…there's gonna be more. What can I say I love hurting characters. Also I've set myself up for a name which is also a pun, but I don't know when I'll get to reveal it. I'll sneak it in somewhere I'm sure. 
> 
> Also guys, I ate roast chicken and stuffing crips on Wednesday (It is now Friday at 2:20am here) and I've had two showers, washed my hands so many times I've lost count and my hands still smell of them. Ngl I am loving it. 
> 
> Some of the cell scene is kinda taken and adapted from the anime and manga Banana Fish, if you haven't watched then, go watch it dummy, it's amazing and the ending will make you question if happiness even exists anymore so, go watch it. (I know it sounds like its got a stupid name and it does, but there's a reason which makes sense behind it) there are no banana shaped fish or fish shaped bananas. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! I know it switches POV a lot and I'm sorry, but I wanted to get it all in this one. Please comment cause they give me life and happiness and tingles. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I have three key ideas for the next chapter and I'm very very excited to write them which means (yay, they're interesting) Toodles!


	16. Sixteen

Wolf and Ghost got to B-Squadron’s barracks just as the rest of their teams were arriving. The sand had mostly been brushed off their uniforms and Wolf was pleased to see that the majority of K-Unit looked much more respectable than their american counterparts. By the way Eagle and Apache were still glaring at each other, and the fact that they two alone looked like they’d been dragged through a hedge backward led him to deduce that there had probably been some sort of fight between the pair. Either that or they’d been making out; both were quite possible. 

They filed into the barracks which Wolf saw was considerably larger than the one they’d been assigned to. What were the Americans trying to say? He caught Bear’s eye and she looked pointedly over at Eagle and Apache, who despite their ferocious glares had seated themselves next to each other on the same bed. 

Bear walked over to him, bent down and said quietly in his ear, “Eagle won the fight, he kicked Apache in the nuts.” Wolf couldn’t help but grin. 

“You’d think that was counterproductive.” he whispered back.

“Right,” said Ghost loudly, “everyone take a seat, you can sit anywhere.” he paused, sighing, looking exasperated, “Anywhere but on the important files, Rex.” 

Wolf perched himself on the edge of the bed nearest Ghost. Ghost was in charge of the operation, but Wolf was still the leader of his unit and he thought he ought to have some kind of station. 

Once everyone was seated Ghost stood to address them all. 

“As you know, we’re being pulled out of our international relations exercises to complete a very important operation.” Wolf had to admire how Ghost could capture attention, he could see why the man had been picked as his squadron chief. “Now, lieutenant Carmicheal hasn’t briefed me fully, but he’s given us these files so we can formulate a plan of action. It’s up to us to decide what resources to use, where to begin and how to do it. We’re planning a full scale operation and we have the rest of Delta Force who are only on routine assignments to aid us if we need it. This means we’ll have five squadrons, which with K-Unit is thirty five men - well,” he looked up uncomfortably at Bear, “thirty four men one woman.” 

Bear rolled her eyes. 

“Which squads are on routine?” Gun asked, raising his hand in the air a little.

Ghost opened the file in front of him and read, “F,E,G,A and Z, why?”

Gun smiled slowly, “Calico is in Z unit.”

The rest of B-Squadron’s faces matched his grin and Wolf looked around confused, there was obviously something between this Calico and B-Squadron.

“Who’s Calico?” he asked, hoping for a little explanation

“He was in charge of an operation a few months ago,” explained Gun, “there was a kidnapping and we had to block off all possible exits. Calico and his unit made us guard the sewers. From the inside”

Charge shivered, “I swear I can still smell it on my jacket.”

“Guys, we can’t assign Z unit to something horrible just because we don’t like them.” said Ghost almost wearily, but Wolf could see a small glint in his eyes, “If they happen to get the worst luck of the draw then so be it, we’re merely distributing squadrons as we see fit.”

“I hope there’s a pit of snakes or something we can make them jump into,” said Apache vindictively, “or a sewer full of rats, that would be good.”

“You’re just describing Indianna Jones.” Eagle pointed out.

“So? They’re good films.” Apache said defensively.

“I didn’t say they weren’t.”

“It was implied in the tone.”

“It was not.”

“Was.”

“Eagle!”  
“Apache!”

The two men looked up from their squabbling and made their apologies to their respective leaders. 

“This is a high stakes mission,” Ghost continued, “and Carmicheal told that he thinks SIS have sent us on a bit of a wild goose chase, which means it’s going to be extra difficult to get a win. And we really need to win this one.” he added as an afterthought. 

“So is it a kidnapping or a hostage situation or a search and rescue?” Rex asked, making the same deduction as Wolf. 

Ghost shook his head, “Neither, it’s a man-hunt.” 

There was a sudden change in the air, the men were surprised.

“Who for?” asked Hawk, finally.

Ghost picked up a file from the pile on his bed and handed it to Snake, motioning for him to pass it along once he’d looked at it. Ghost held up a picture of an attractive blonde man, with short hair and piercingly blue eyes. He was coming out of a hotel, holding his mobile to his ear. 

“This is Yassen Gregorovich, he was a contract killer until last July when he was shot in the chest by Damian Cray. He survived but barely and has spent the past year at Baskerville Prison in England. This morning he escaped and is now in the states.”

“Why did he come here?” asked Hawk, “surely he’d hide out somewhere a little less policed? Somewhere where there’s no US extradition.” 

“I’m coming to that,” Ghost said grimly, “Gregorovich escaped with a man named Cuthbert Stanely,” there was an intake of breath at the name, “who was, until recently our commanding officer here at Fort Bragg.”

“The Lieutenant escaped with a contract killer, why?” Charge asked, confused. “And why was he taken in the first place? You never said. Ghost, what’s going on?”

There was a murmur from the other members of B-Squadron, obviously they were all as confused as K-Unit.

“I’ll tell you everything I know once I’ve briefed you on the mission.” said Ghost, calmly, “What I will say now is that I’m pretty sure the Lieutenant's reason for breaking out was similar to Gregorvich’s.”

Wolf looked at the rest of the men and was not surprised that they all looked confused.

“The CIA believe that Gregorovich has broken out to find a boy named Alex Rider. Coincidentally, it is the same boy which we rescued from that kidnapping a few days ago.” 

Ghost picked up the file, but before he could pass it round Gun spoke. “But didn’t that kid say his father was David Friend?”

Ghost nodded and pulled out the picture, staring down at it. “He did, but he must have been lying for some reason. What that reason is, I don’t know. Anyway,” 

He passed the file to Snake and held up the picture, “this is Alex Rider, he’s fifteen, british and-”

“It’s Cub!”

“I don’t believe it!”

“What the hell?”

Wolf, Snake and Eagle had all spoken at the same time. B-Squadron, Hawk and Bear were looking at them all with interest. Ghost looked at Wolf, his question evident in his eyes. 

“So it is the kid you know?”

“Definitely.” 

“Okay, so then I guess: how do you know him? And do you know anything which might help us find him before Gregorovich does?”

“I don’t know about that.” Wolf said, scratching his chin, “but I’ll tell you how we know him for sure. When we were just entering the selection process in March last year, we got landed with this kid, Alex I guess his name is. He was sent to be part of our unit for just under two weeks, we all thought he was going to get us binned. We were under the impression that he was the son of some rich diplomat or something, who wanted to toughen his kid up a bit. They gave him the codename Cub and he did everything with us, apart from shooting and parachute training. He was a nightmare, but-”

“No he wasn’t Wolf, he kept up with us extremely well.” Snake defended, “He even pickpocketed the Sergeant for those matches. We’d never have gotten a fire started if it wasn’t for Cub.”

“Yes, well-”

“Wolf, you only didn’t like him because he was actually good.” Eagle chimed in.

“Alright, alright, the kid was good okay?” Wolf admitted, “Better than any of us would have been at- how old did you say he was? Fifteen? Anyway, he left and we all thought we’d never see him again but then at the end of April, I saw him again, snowboarding down a mountain in France on an ironing board.”

B-Squadron looked at him, dumb-struck, but they didn’t interrupt, too keen to hear the rest of the story.

“There were guards shooting at him, and there was no way we could actually get up the mountain and help, if we had been called in a few days earlier then maybe, but we could only watch as this kid took out a snowmobile on his own. He only escaped the second one when he managed to hitch a lift on the train going past. He slid along it cool as can be, but then there was a corner, he fell and ended up in barbed wire.” The entire room winced, falling from a train going at speed into barbed wire must have hurt.

“I went to the hospital to see him afterward and there was this woman there, who convinced him to go back to where he’d just escaped from. He didn’t want to at first but then when I said we didn’t need him, he got all defensive and ended up tagging along. I can’t tell you what or where he’d escaped from, but they sent him back in. I got shot, and then I went to find the primary target, the one behind the operation we were sent to take down, but all there was was this huge explosion in the sky. I found out after that the kid had launched a snowmobile at the helicopter he was in.”

“Wow.” said Ghost simply, “that’s one hell of a kid.” 

“Have you seen him since?” Apache asked

Wolf shook his head. “I sent him a card when he got appendicitis last September.”

Ghost nodded, deep in thought, “Wolf, this woman which convinced him to go back into wherever it was he’d just escaped from. I don’t suppose you know who she was or her name or anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” Wolf said, shrugging, “but if it helps she was about forty, dark hair, dark eyes, very businesslike, smells of peppermints?”

“Quite masculine?” Ghost asked, his eyebrows pinching together. Eagle snorted at the question but Wolf ignored him. 

“Yeah, why do you know her?”

“I might do. There’s a woman like that with MI6, she was there when they arrested Stanley and left with Alex in the same helicopter.”

“MI6?” Wolf asked, surprised, “what’s the kid doing wrapped up with MI6?”

“Not a clue.” Ghost said, honestly, “but when he was arrested, Stanley managed to write this down.” he brought the post-it note out of his pocket. “He was in the debrief with Alex, David Friend and this woman.” 

“What does it say?” asked Bear, who until now had been very quiet. 

“MI6. Blunt. Anatolievich. Miami. Get kid out.” 

“Who’s Blunt?” asked Eagle, “Do you think it could be this woman?”

“Maybe,” said Ghost thoughtfully, “It could be the man who was with her too. Either way it’s someone in MI6, I’m sure of it.”

“And who is this Anatolievich, is he with MI6 too?” asked Snake, “It sounds russian.”

“But Gregorovich is russian too isn’t he?” asked Rex, looking at the man’s file, “maybe they know each other?”

“Maybe, that’s what I thought” agreed Ghost, “but anyway, I think the kid may be in Miami. Only thing is, Carmicheal doesn’t know about this.” he gestured to the piece of paper, “And if Gregorovich is looking for Rider, and Stanley told him when they escaped, he’ll know where the kid is already.”

“But if Gregorovich wanted to hurt Cub, would your Lieutenant tell him where he was?” Eagle asked

Ghost was silent. “I hadn’t thought of that.” he said, surprised, “Stanley is an intelligent man, I don’t think he would have told a contract killer where Rider was even if Gregorovich did tell him he didn’t want to hurt the kid. Not willingly anyway.”

“So we have a good idea that the kid is in Miami?” Hawk asked, “then why haven’t SIS doubled the police, doubled the agents and put a barricade around the kid’s house if they know where he is?”

“But the kid doesn’t live there.” Charge pointed out, “He lives in San Francisco, he told us when we rescued him. His address is listed as Presidio Heights in the file.”

“Then what’s he doing in Florida?” asked Bear

“Maybe it’s something to do with Friend?” suggested Rex, “Maybe it’s why he lied to us. Maybe SIS can’t give the kid visible protection for a reason.”

“I think we can assume that Gregorovich doesn’t know the kid is in Miami.” Ghost said, “Stanley was injured during their escape, maybe that was Gregorovich’s handiwork when he didn’t tell him where the kid was.”

Immediately there was tension in the room. 

“The Lieutenant's injured?” exclaimed Charge, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I am telling you,” Ghost snapped, then seeing the look on B-Squardron’s faces he said, in a much softer tone, “I’m sorry, I know I should have before” he apologised, “Carmicheal said that he would be in custody soon which means he’ll be treated in hospital first if it’s life threatening.”

“Is it bad I don’t know whose side to be on? On the one hand Staney’s a fugitive, but why was he even locked up in the first place?” muttered Charge.

Ghost turned to him, “He was arrested for breaching the confidentiality clause in his contract, he was about to tell me about the briefing when they came in and arrested him.”

“So whatever SIS said at the briefing,” began Wolf slowly, “was bad enough that your lieutenant would risk prison and a dishonourable discharge to do something about it?”

Ghost nodded simply. 

Eagle voiced what they were all thinking, “I wonder what Cub’s got himself into.” 

There was a grim silence.

“I think we should start in San Francisco.” Ghost said clearly, “I know it’ll mean a lot of travelling, especially if Gregorovich is in Miami already, but I think it’s safe to say we know Lieutenant Stanley better than anyone else, and I think we can all be pretty sure he wouldn’t have told Gregorovich where the kid is.”

B-Squadron nodded their heads in agreement.

“I agree, start with his family.” Ghost said, looking over at Bear who was holding Cub’s file, “What does it say?” 

Bear flicked through the file quickly, “His foster mother is Elizabeth Pleasure she’s in fashion. His foster father however is Edward Pleasure, the journalist. There’s a whole other file on him.” she picked up the file next to her, opened it, and read. “He’s been the target of two failed assassinations, orchestrated by Damian Cray and Desmond McCain. Once in the south of France and then again in Scotland. He was left with a long term leg injury after the Cray attack which was - you’re not going to believe this - carried out by Gregorovich.”

“Gregorovich tried to kill Rider’s foster father?”

“Yes, though he wasn’t fostering him at the time, Pleasure only started looking after Rider in March this year. Gregorovich was working for Cray, there was nothing personal about the attack. Seemingly, they were unconnected.”

“This story just keeps getting weirder and weirder.” Wolf muttered, rubbing his hand over his head.

“What about the second attempt?” asked Snake “what was the motivation then?” 

“The second time it had nothing to do with Gregorovich at all, it was solely down to the article Pleasure was writing on Desmond McCain. Apparently Rider was there when the tires of his car were shot out.”

“Jesus, this kid’s like a bad penny.” interjected Charge.

Bear gave him a dark look over the file, “Rider’s the only reason Pleasure survived.” she said seriously, “The car went into Loch Leven in January with Rider, Pleasure and his daughter inside. Apparently the kid got them all out.”

Eagle gave a low whistle. 

“It’s a wonder they didn’t all get hyperthermia.” said Gun.

“So this Pleasure has a daughter?” Ghost asked, moving back on topic “who is she?”

Bear flicked the page over, “Her name’s Sabina Pleasure, she’s a year older than Rider at sixteen. Most of her information has been redacted as she’s underage.” She took out a picture from the file and held it up. “She’ll be a heartbreaker when she grows up, if she’s not already.”

Wolf looked at the image. A very pretty girl with long dark hair and bright blue eyes stared out of the photograph. She was dressed in tennis gear and looked athletic.

There was a wolf whistle from one of the american men, followed immediately by the sound of a hand hitting a shoulder. 

“Is it possible that the Pleasure family know where Rider is?” Wolf asked curiously.

Ghost looked at him, evidently thinking. “We don’t know that they don't,” he said slowly, “and I suppose they’re the people most likely to, well apart from MI6 or the CIA.”

“I think we should go see Mr Pleasure and see if Gregorovich has paid him a visit already.” Wolf suggested, “We should station a couple of your squadrons round that area too so if Gregorovich hasn’t already come knocking he’ll be caught.”

Ghost nodded. “I agree, the Pleasure’s are probably Gregorovich’s best bet at finding Rider, ours too. It’s probably where he’ll try first, and our priority is to keep the civilians safe.”

“Should we station people in the daughter’s school?” queried Hawk, “Gregorovich doesn’t seem the type to be above kidnapping a child to get what he wants.”

“Good idea.” Ghost said, considering slowly, “I don’t want a child getting caught up in all this.”

“You mean, another child.” Apache pointed out. 

Ghost inclined his head

“We should station some of your people in Miami as well.” Wolf suggested, “Just in case Gregorovich does show up there immediately.”

Ghost nodded, “I agree. We'll put E and A in Miami, then F and G can come with us to San Fran. We’ll leave Z out of it as much as possible, Calico will only try and take over the mission and I don’t want to deal with him.”

“Hey Ghost?” asked Apache.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t we station Z Squadron around the daughters' school? That’ll be a nice, important task for them, babysitting a bunch of Juniors.” 

Ghost grinned. “I like your style.” There were eager nods and evil smiles amongst the rest of B Squadron. 

“Okay then, let’s get moving,” said Ghost, “Rex, go and organise transport for us to San Francisco. Helicopters will be too flashy to arrive and if Gregorovich is there he'll be sure to notice them. Use your initiative, remember he’s dangerous and we don’t want to come into contact with him before the take down. Take Bear with you,” he added as an afterthought, “we need to get used to working together.”

Rex nodded and left the barracks, motioning for Bear to follow him.

“Apache,” Ghost said, turning to him, “take Eagle and sort out weaponry. Again, we don’t want anything too flashy or anything we can’t hide in our duffel bags. We’ll travel as civilians most of the way and we don’t want to attract any attention that Gregorovich might get wind of.”

The pair nodded and left the hut. Wolf was mildly surprised Eagle hadn’t made a joke out of the word wind. 

“Snake,” Ghost said, “you’re K-Unit’s medic aren’t you?”

Snake nodded.

“You and Charge best pack up your supplies, and raid the infirmary too, we don’t know what we’ll need, or what kind of weapons Gregorovich will be armed with” 

Charge stood from the bed, “Come on, I’ll show you the med bay,” he leaned in close to the other man, “It’s sick.”

Snake looked at Wolf, a resigned, pleasing look on his face. Wolf smiled back at him innocently, Snake needed to learn an appreciation for puns.

“Gun, you telephone F, G and Z Squadrons. Tell them to move their asses over to San Fran ASAP, we’ll follow up with more information in a few hours. Do the same for A and E units but send them over to Miami.”

Gun nodded and exited the room with Snake and Charge. which left Wolf, Hawk and Ghost as the only occupants in the room. 

“Hawk and I are our Squadrons tactical experts.” Ghost said, “Which means we’re the ones who need to come up with a specific POA.”

Wolf sent him a silent questioning glance. 

“That is er- a Plan of Action,” he explained, “Wolf, you’re your Unit’s leader and you seem to know Rider best so I think it’s best if we keep you in the main loop too.”

Wolf nodded, Ghost was acting just as he would have done if he’d been running point on the operation. 

“We have to head off in,” Ghost glanced at the clock on the wall, “in about fifty minutes which means we don’t have a lot of time to come up with an exact plan, especially as we don’t know the kind of equipment or transport the others will decide on, but I reckon if we come up with enough options then we should hopefully cover all our bases.”

“Chances are with a man like Gregorovich, things will go tits up within twenty minutes of us making contact,” Hawk said captiously. He was flicking through Gregorovich’s file. 

“What makes you say that?” asked Wolf, surprised, Hawk was usually optimistic.

“Nothing concrete really,” Hawk said thoughtfully, “but it seems that when Rider’s life and Gregorovich’s cross, things end up pretty badly for the people in the middle.” He looked up and Wolf motioned for him to continue. “First Gregorovich works for Sayle for months and months on those Stormbreaker computers and then after two days, two days, of Rider turning up in Port Tallon, Gregorovich ends up shooting Sayle.”

“So? Maybe it was just a coincidence?” Ghost suggested, “Maybe Gregorovich got bored of Sayle ordering him around all the time and snapped. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d take kindly to someone asking him to pass the cookies nevermind asking him to constantly commit murder.”

Hawk inclined his head in agreement and flipped the paper in the file. 

“I’d agree it was just a coincidence, but then you see only three months later, Rider turns up in the south of France, where Gregorovich then blows up the house he’s staying in. Nothing to do with Rider but all the same. Anyway, a couple of days later, Rider and Gregorovich both end up on Air Force one with Damian Cray.”

“I heard about that,” Ghost said, “It was a major scandal, apparently they never found Cray’s body?”

Hawk grimaced. “They didn’t find his body, because there was no body to be found. All we know about the events on Air Force One is that Gregorovich was shot by Cray - though we don’t know what made Cray turn on the man after he’d been working with him for so long. Oh, and that Cray died somewhere along the line too. From the series of events here we have to assume that it was Rider who killed him. Though there are mentions of an underage civilian being on board too, it may have been them I suppose, or the pilot.”

“Who’s the civilian?” asked Ghost curiously. 

Hawk shrugged, showing them the file where there were full paragraphs of redacted information, thick black lines all over the text. “It doesn’t say, it’s been taken out. How Cray died was never officially recorded, witness accounts from the ground say the cabin door was open, so either Cray fell to his death from a height of about two metres or-”

It was Wolf’s turn to grimace now, he felt sick, he gritted his teeth, “Or he went through the engine.”

Hawk nodded. 

“So, death follows both Rider and Gregorovich like a shadow.” Ghost said bluntly, “That’s good to know, at least we have some idea what we’re getting into.”

“I know this sounds ridiculous,” said Wolf, preparing for the onslaught of jibes this would no doubt bring, “but I can’t imagine Cub killing people. Even though I know he must have killed the Primary on the operation in France, and at least one of the people on the snow mobiles on his way down the mountain, it’s still hard to imagine. I know, it’s ridiculous”

Ghost shook his head, “It doesn’t sound ridiculous, he is a kid after all but,” he paused, unsure of what to say exactly, “Wolf, you met him over a year ago, I met him about three days ago. At first glance he looks and acts like a normal kid but there’s something about his eyes which-” he cut himself off, a small shiver going down his spine. He tried again, “Whatever happened to the kid between that mission in France and now, well, it was nothing good. He looks like he’s seen some serious shit.”

Wolf set his jaw and nodded stoically. Ghost was a sensible man after all, he wouldn’t embellish a story.

“Blimey!”

Wolf turned to look at Hawk who had uttered the exclamation. “What?” he asked, interestedly. 

“Listen to his medical report. Age: 15, Height 5’4-”

“Well that’s weird for a start,” Ghost cut in, “I don’t know if you brits are different but when I was fifteen I was at least 5’8, and I’m only 6’0 now.”

“Maybe he’s not had his growth spurt yet.” Wolf suggested. 

“Anyway,” Hawk snapped, “Height 5’4, Weight: 110lbs.”

“Jesus-”

“Would you stop interrupting?” Hawk asked Ghost curtly.

“Sorry.”

“He’s got all the usual vaccinations, plenty of hospital appointments for various broken bones, fractures and sprains from when he was growing up.”

“He’s still growing up.” mumbled Ghost. 

“Ghost!”

“Sorry.”

“But then in September when he’s” Hawk screwed his face up in concentration, doing the maths, “when he’s fourteen he’s admitted to hospital with-you’re not going to believe this.”

“What?”

“A bullet wound about an inch above his heart.”

Wolf and Ghost shared a look of shock.

“He’d been shot?” Ghost asked, his eyes wide. 

“That tends to be how you come by a bullet wound.” Hawk said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

Wolf was quiet, thinking. “That’s about when I sent him a card for appendicitis. They must have lied.”

“It is SIS, it’s basically in the job description.” 

Wolf didn’t respond, instead sinking back into whoever’s bed he was sat on. “God.” he said after a while. “Poor kid. Do we know who shot him?”

Hawk shook his head, “It’s been redacted, though we know it was deliberate.”

“Well most shootings tend to be.” Ghost reasoned. 

“No,” Hawk said impatiently, “I mean that he was shot with a Barrett M82.”

Wolf sat up sharply on the bed, “But that’s a sniper rifle.” he said sharply and Hawk nodded slowly, waiting for it to sink in, “You’re telling me someone tried to assassinate Cub?”

“Looks like it.”

“My God.”

There was silence until Ghost broke it a minute later. 

“Come on, we need to keep looking through these files, we don’t have time to sit around. Hawk, have you found anything else about Rider which we may need to know?”

“Actually, there’s something else in his medical file which is weird.” Hawk said, flicking through the file to find the right page.

“Go on.”

“There’s some notes about medication he’s been taking since March - ever since he’s been living in the States, but it doesn’t say what it’s for or what it is.”

“Could it be something like oxycodone for his bullet wound?” asked Wolf. “That’s what they gave me.” 

Hawk shook his head, “No, he was given it in September when he was shot, but two months later when he was admitted to hospital for burns there was no trace of it in his system, he hadn’t been taking it for awhile.” 

“What could it be?”

Hawk shrugged, “Snake’s our medic, he might have more of an idea.” he gestured at the file, “all it says here is that it was experimental but successful. Oh and that he’s addicted to it.” 

“Addicted?” Ghost repeated, “Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“SIS don’t seem to be too worried.”

“Yeah, well SIS are up to something untoward, aren’t they.” Wolf pointed out.

“Anything else in the file?”

“Nothing which looks important,” Hawk said, “just general information about him.” 

Wolf nodded, “We best take these files along with us anyway. What about Gregorovich’s?”

Ghost picked it up and scanned it. 

“He’s 6’1, thirty-six,”

“He doesn’t even look thirty!” exclaimed Hawk.

Ghost ignored him, “He’s russian, trained under a Scoripia agent whose name is redacted when he was nineteen. He’s a known associate of the assassin nicknamed ‘The Gentleman’. He’s incredibly well trained, and kept himself to an impossible standard of health and fitness even when he was in Baskerville. There’s a list of his contacts but they’re mostly in Europe and the Middle East. He’s got a pilot's license, a boating license, a few yachts in his name but they’ve all been seized since his arrest. There’s no address registered. That’s about it”

“That can’t be it.” Wolf said, eyebrows narrowed, “did he give up anything in interrogation when he was caught?”

Ghost shook his head, “Nothing which they’ve put in the file.”

“They really do want us to fail.” muttered Hawk. 

“We know that this operation is high profile,” Ghost said, reasonably, “it’s only natural that we won’t be allowed access to most of the information. Quite frankly I'm surprised there’s that much on Rider actually. We’ve had cases with less.”

Even as Ghost said this it was obvious to Wolf that it wasn’t true. Wolf didn’t question it, this way of operation was new to him and he didn’t think that undermining Ghost’s confidence or bravado would help. This was an important case for all of them. If they failed then Cub might end up dead, or worse. 

“So do you do all your operations like this?” Wolf asked curiously, “We’re just given orders and shipped out, we don’t organise our own resources.”

Ghost thought for a moment, “It’s not often we’re given a full run of an operation like this, there's usually a whole team of us, plus the lieutenant, but it’s not dissimilar.” 

“So, where do we start?” asked Hawk, briskly, “Once we get to San Fransisco I mean.”

Ghost pulled a map out of the files on the beds and opened it out, showing a map of San Francisco. Wolf picked up a discarded pen from the floor and moved to mark on the Presidio Heights neighbourhood at the top of the city. 

“This is where they live.” he said as he circled it. 

“Posh place.” muttered Ghost, he after all was the only one to know the area. 

“Rider and the daughter go to Abraham Lincoln High School in the Sunset District,” Hawk said, reading from the file he’d just picked up from the floor. He pulled out a set of photographs of the school. It was a tall building, painted red and cream with a silhouette of the President it was named after on one of the walls. Hawk pointed to a spot further south west of the Pleasure’s home on the map. “It’s about here.” 

“Hey, it says here there’s a tree that was planted by Lincoln himself.” 

Wolf looked incredulously up at his soldier and Hawk looked down, embarrassed, “It’s cool, shut up.”

“What’s our budget for a motel?” asked Ghost 

“Where should it say?” 

“Nevermind, I’ve got the file here. We’ll only need two rooms, one for sleep, one for observation and we’ve got a two hundred dollar budget.”

“Found a place.” Hawk said immediately. “There's a motel on Geary Boulevard. $78 dollars a night. It’s west of the Pleasure’s house, near the Golden Gate park.”

“That’ll do us. Here, mark it on.” Ghost said, handing over the pen. 

They worked in unison for the next thirty-five minutes, collecting information about the area, calculating escape routes taking into account when and where there would be lots of civilians, places where, if cornered Gregorovich may try to run to or places where he may already be hiding out. There was even a detailed run down of the Pleasure’s schedules, apparently the CIA had had people watching them for months. Eventually, pair by pair, the rest of the men filed back in. They’d packed the helicopters they’d take to Stockton and organised the rental cars they would then take the rest of the way to San Francisco. F, G and Z units were already on their way over to the city. 

Ghost and Wolf picked the files up with help from Snake and packed them into a bag held open by Rex. Wolf shouldered it and stood to address the rest of the men with Ghost. 

“We’re heading out in five minutes.” Ghost said loudly, “Everyone go take a piss, freshen up and be at the helipad at 1300 hours. If you’re late we’ll leave without you.”

The men exited the hut and Wolf followed Ghost out and walked with the man to the helipad where two helicopters were ready. 

“So who’s flying these?” Wolf asked curiously. 

“Apache is our aircraft specialist, he’ll fly one. Rex can manage the other if you guys-”

“Hey!” Wolf objected, “of course we can fly. We all do. Hawk’s the most natural, I’ve no head for heights.” 

Wolf wasn’t sure what had inspired this honesty, perhaps it was the memories of Cub. He was, after all was the one who had kicked him out the plane, but Ghost didn’t say anything, just nodded.

“Russet and Nero from E unit are meeting us at Stockton airstrip where we’re landing, then they’ll take the copters back here and then join the rest of their unit in Miami.” Ghost explained, moving the conversation on quickly. Wolf was grateful. 

“How do you get your codenames by the way?” Wolf asked curiously, “We get ours before selection but it sounds as if yours are more personal than that.”

Ghost grinned, “We get numbers until we pass,” he explained, “most of us tend to earn a nickname during selection anyway and those that don’t are just handed one at random.”  
Wolf nodded. He’d been hoping the Ghost would tell him the story behind his own, but it looked like he was going to have to ask. He gave the man next to him a glance out of the corner of his eye. Ghost met his gaze impishly. 

“You want to know how I got mine?” he asked, smiling. 

“I’m curious, sue me.”

Ghost grinned. “It’s nothing interesting really, Charge and Gun’s stories are much better than mine.” he gestured to the men who were walking a couple of paces behind them. 

Wolf narrowed his eyes, “I want to hear yours.”

Ghost sighed, “We were in Alaska and I managed to complete the stealth exercise without being seen, which was difficult as the area was covered in snow and the trees were virtually non-existent. I-”

“Hey, Ghost!” came Charge’s voice, loud and clear from over Wolf’s shoulder, “Are you telling that fake story again?”

“It’s not a fake story!” Ghost protested, turning round, “I was the only one who didn't get caught on that-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Charge said patronisingly, slinging his arm around Ghost’s shoulders. “Would you like to hear the real reason ol’ Ghost is named Ghost?”

Wolf grinned at Ghost who looked resigned, “Yes, please.” 

“So polite, you brits.” commented Charge, “come on men, gather round.” The rest of K-Unit as well as Apache and Rex had caught up to them. They joined the little group on the helipad.

“Ghost here, was on watch duty,” began Charge mysteriously, “and the trees around us began to sway. It was a dark October night and a sudden chill fell over the lone soldier.” 

Ghost shuddered visibly. 

“He clutched his gun to his chest and looked out into the darkness. Then the fog came, and he struggled to see past the point of his bayonet. He was responsible for the four sleeping soldiers beside him and then all of a sudden, BAM” he clamped a hand down on Ghost’s shoulder and the man went pale.

“A heavy hand fell onto his shoulder and the soldier turned round, but there was no one there. Just the fog, an outline of a man standing far away and his four sleeping friends.” Charge’s voice changed from spooky to matter-of-fact. “Though he woke the four soldiers a second later when he screamed bloody murder and started shouting about ghosts, the paranormal and the netherworld, then insited that a spirit was out to get him.” 

The soldiers around Ghost burst into laughter at Charge’s last sentence and the leader of B-Squadron turned red. 

“I’m telling you there was something there.” he protested. 

“Sure there was Ghost.” said Apache, clapping his leader on the shoulder and climbing into the pilot's seat of the helicopter nearest to them. The rest of B-Squadron followed suit and K-Unit headed over to the other vehicle. 

“Strange lot, aren’t they?” Snake mused to Wolf as they climbed up. 

“I like them.” said Eagle happily, his grin wide. 

“You like everyone Eagle,” Bear pointed out, “you even like Viper.”

“I keep telling you, she’s not that bad!”

Bear stared at him until he relented, “Okay, she’s a bit of a bitch I’ll admit, but so am I.”

“Yeah, Apache’s bitch.” Bear snorted

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to.”

“Just get in, Eagle.” Hawk said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Wolf, I take it I’m flying?”

Wolf nodded. “All you have to do is follow the yanks.”

“Nice.”

Wolf looked at him, puzzled “Why’s that nice?”

“I don’t have to deal with Eagle for fourteen hours.” 

“Fourteen hours?” Shouted Snake and Bear in unison.

“So we’ll get there at what, 3am tomorrow? How big is this country?” asked Eagle, horrified.

“Well technically California is three hours behind us,” Wolf explained, “so we’ll get there at midnight, but it’ll be like 3am for us.” 

“Oh my god, fourteen hours in a small space with Eagle.” despaired Bear. “This is the worst form of torture, what did we do to deserve this?” 

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” said Eagle, indignantly, moving to sit in between Bear and Wolf. Wolf promptly stood and moved to sit next to Snake. “and you’ll be nice to me if you want any sandwiches.”

“Just because you have food doesn't mean you have to sit that close to me.” muttered Bear.

“Why, should I be worried? Is being a prat contagious?” asked Eagle with mock concern.

Bear retaliated with a punch to Eagle’s left arm. The helicopter blades began to spin and Wolf leant back against the side, resigned to his fate. Snake patted his knee. 

“Strap in,” he said, with a wry smile, “it’s going to be a long journey.” 

Sabina was sitting in her 5th period English, staring out of the window, her mind far away from the extract from Romeo and Juliet she was supposed to be analysing. After Lieutenant Stanley had been taken away by the paramedics, the Pleasure family plus Brad had had a long conversation about what they were going to do next. 

“There’s someone looking for Alex and they want revenge on him for killing Gregorovich and we’re just going to sit here doing nothing?” Sabina had asked her father, astounded.

“We don’t know that Sabina.” he’d reasoned, “All we know is that there’s another russian looking for Alex, he may be on our side, he might even be an agent of some sort. I’ll see if I can contact the CIA and they can look into it.” 

Sabina had to admit that her father was right, they didn’t know anything for sure, they only had the man’s word that he was lieutenant Stanley, well former Lieutenant anyway. He could have been anyone, though something in Sabina’s gut told her that the man had been honest. 

She couldn’t exactly call up the CIA herself and tell them that her gut thought that this man was who he said he was and that he’d been telling the truth, it would sound silly. Besides she didn’t have their number. If the CIA did take an interest in the man who had turned up at their door, there would be a long investigation and by that time the man may have already found Alex. But if they did nothing… Alex had saved her and her father’s life at least twice each and now all they could do was sit tight and wait for the CIA to send someone round to their house.

“Miss Pleasure.”

Sabina looked up at her teacher, Mr Landsbury. 

“Yeah?” she asked apathetically. She knew it would make her seem rude but she didn’t really care.

“I asked you why I’ve just received a note from Principal Vardy saying you were supposed to see him in his office at lunch but neglected to do so.”

“Ah,” Sabina said disinterestedly, not really listening, “did you?” She didn’t have a clue what the man was on about, but she couldn’t be bothered to argue. 

There were snickers from some of the class and a quiet ‘ooooo’ from the boy behind her.

“Would you like to answer the question Miss Pleasure,” Mr Landsbury said sweetly, “or would you like detention?”

“I’ll have detention.” 

There were a few more laughs from her class and Sabina picked up her bag, (she hadn’t bothered to take anything out), and walked up Mr Landsbury as he tore off a detention slip, standing beside him silently as he wrote down the details. It didn’t really feel important, not when Alex was somewhere in such danger.

“I don’t know what's happened to your attitude Sabina,” he said quietly, as the rest of the class began to whisper between themselves, ”but I suggest you fix it as soon as possible, we don’t want you to join your brother in suspension.”

This comment caught her attention and she turned to look at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“Ah, you are listening to me. I said you should fix your attitude. Now Miss Pleasure I need to continue the class.” He tried to turn back round to the rest of the students but Sabina caught his arm. 

“No, what did you say about Alex?”

“Alex Pleasure? I thought you knew, he’s got suspension, that’s why he hasn’t been in school for the past two days. You live with him don’t you, I thought you would know.”

“Why does he have suspension?” she pressed.

Mr Landsbury turned to her, looking perplexed, “He attacked Miss Sadie. Sabina, how do you not know this?”

Sabina opened her mouth to say that Alex hadn’t attacked Miss Sadie at all and that he’d been kidnapped but shut it a second later. Had this been what it was like at Brooklands? How had Alex lived with it? The entire school thinking he was a delinquent and a druggie? It was so unfair, now she understood the hurt Alex had felt when she had laughed at him about MI6. Mr Landsbury was looking curiously down at her.

“Sabina, what’s going on? Is Alex not at home?”

Sabina’s eyes slid to meet Mr Landsbury’s and she put on her most innocent smile. “Sorry Mr Landsbury, I got confused, Alex is at home, of course he is.” She gave a small, tinkling laugh, plucked the detention slip out of Mr Landsbury’s hand and left the classroom.

She felt his eyes on her as she left the room and knew she had to be more careful. If Alex did return, she wanted people to treat him normally, not like they had at his school in Chelsea. There would be rumors that he’d attacked Miss Sadie of course, but they would soon die down. She wondered what had happened to Miss Sadie, she hadn’t been at school since Alex had left either. Maybe she had something to do with it.

The day Alex had been kidnapped had been a weird one. Things were normal until break, but then Mr Vardy had walked into her classroom with a message from Alex asking her to tell his boss where he was and to be Blunt. She got his meaning straight away, and phones her parents. They however hadn’t needed to call anyone. She had arrived home from school to find a CIA representative at her house telling them that everything was going to be okay, and then later a phone call from North Carolina saying that Alex was safe and unharmed, but back in the clutches of the people he hated most. 

Sabina walked into the detention classroom, unsurprised to see Brad Coaches already in there. He was hated by most of the staff as well as the students and his constant questioning usually landed him in detention about two minutes into every class, it was a miracle he’d made it this far in school. 

She slumped down into the seat next to him. 

“Hey Brad.”

He didn’t look up. 

“Brad.”

“What?” he said irritably, “Oh, hey Sabina.” 

“Are you okay Brad?” she asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine,” he said, then seemed to think better of it, “this morning just freaked me out. It’s weird we’re back at school after all that’s happened.”

Sabina nodded in agreement, “Me too, I don’t know how Alex managed it.” 

She glanced around to check if there was anyone else in earshot, but it was only herself, Brad and the supply teacher at the front of the room. The man had his feet propped up on the desk and the sports magazine he was engrossed in obscured his face. They should be safe to talk without being overheard. 

“Do you think that man really was in the army?” Brad asked her plainly. 

“Yes,” she said immediately, “I do. Even if dad isn’t convinced, I believed him.”

“Hey kids,” came the voice of the supply teacher at the front, it was an easy, bored southern drawl, “no talking, get on with your work.”

Sabina pulled a random piece of paper out of her bag and glanced down at it. It was the paper they’d worked Alex’s code out on. She felt tears well in her eyes. Through her bleary eyes she noticed that the skin under her nails was still faintly red, Stanley’s blood. She shivered. 

“What are we going to do now?” Brad whispered, looking cautiously up at the supply teacher. 

“Something.” Sabina said decisively, “we don’t have any quick way of telling the CIA that some russian is hunting down Alex, though I suppose they may already know. Dad’s got some contacts in MI6, but he doesn’t trust them, not after-”

“I said no talking.” called the teacher again. 

Sabina rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. 

“Anyway, we have to get to Alex, I can’t bear the thought of-” she cut herself off this time, she didn’t want to say it out loud. 

Brad didn’t need her to finish. He nodded in agreement.

“So what do we do?” he asked again, “Could we get a message to him the same way he contacted us?”

Sabina heard the slap of the sports magazine on the wooden desk and the movement of the man's legs swinging off the table. The supply teacher was coming over to tell them off. Honestly, hadn't any of the teachers in this school been teenagers before?

“I don’t think it would do much good.” she said, not caring about the teacher coming towards them. “Even if we did, he’ll still feel obliged to-”

The paper in her hand was plucked out of her fingers and she turned indignantly to the teacher. She caught sight of the man’s face and her mouth fell open. She jerked backward in her chair, falling into Brad. He caught her before she hit the ground and she scrambled to her feet. 

“Sabina? What-”

“Miss Pleasure,” The supply teacher said smoothly, the southern accent gone, “how delightful it is to see you again.” 

Sabina’s hands balled into fists by her side and she gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t be a scared wreck like last time, even though she had no idea what was going on. She took a steading breath and looked up fiercely, meeting the steely blue gaze of Yassen Gregorovich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, there you have it. Lots of K-Unit, maybe a bit too much. Is that possible? 
> 
> I'm all tangled up with the plot at the moment and it needs sorting out, and yes I'm horribly aware that the timings don't exactly match up but also I have a confession, 
> 
> I made up the name of Lincoln high, but then looking for a school near where Sabina lives..THERE'S A PLACE CALLED ABRAHAM LINCOLN HIGH AND ITS TOTALLY PLAUSiBLE ALEX WOULD SHORTEN IT TO LINCOLN HIGH. The Gods have really shined down upon me today. 
> 
> There was a fair bit of planning in that chapter, so I tried to add some banter just to y'know spice things up a bit. Also I use the phrase '*blank* nodded' so goddamn much whoops
> 
> Also I forgot that Americans call their headteacher Principal instead of Mr/Ms so sorry for the mistake in the earlier chapter guys. And I have no idea how the detention system works, all I know is that when Tracy gets a detention slip in Hairspray she walks right out the classroom so I guessed. I had to google what grade Sabina is in too and I think Brad and B-Squadron should sound more American but lads, I ain't got a clue how to do that. I'm from Yorkshire and Yorkshire is all I know. 
> 
> I'm also very sorry there's no Alex in this one. I thought the word count would be a bit too long and the wait too arduous if I wrote it in now. He'll be back in the next chapter I'm sure.
> 
> I really hope people appreciate this cause I have so much uni work to do, its not even funny anymore. I've not even started and there's so much to do before next Tuesday. If there's an update before then, I've probably written this instead of my essay and failed the module. 
> 
> I also watched Anthony Horowitz's live stream from ages ago and what was that about his publishers saying no one wants to read a book about grown up Alex in his mid 20's being an absolute mess?
> 
> I direct this to his publishers: WHAT THE EVER-LOVING FUCK ARE YOU ON ABOUT? OF COURSE THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO READ. I will soon be starting a chant outside their offices which goes something like his "ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, ANGST." 
> 
> That or I'll start a petition and send it to Mr Horowitz, who's joining? 
> 
> It's almost 3am here now, but that's not even late for me now. Lockdown is doing my head in. I went to sleep at half 6 in the morning and got up at half 3 in the afternoon the other day. I live off crips, chocolate and JD and coke. I need help (by coke I mean soda or Coca Cola or whatever in case y'all were worried) 
> 
> Also, I've been binge watching the famous five….Childhood memes guys don't h8 me. I know its awful but like George is about 14 and she/he and the rest of the gang, and like the two boys are older than him and they're basically incompetent and scared and like so so underestimated (and for good reason) and it really shows like Alex and how awesome he is when he comes up again much worse people and. I love him, okay. 
> 
> Anyway, please comment, they make my days bearable and as you know basically chuck a full bucket load of motivation on my head so that's always handy. Thank you for all the people who have given me support and stuff, I really do love you. 
> 
> Stay safe, Stay inside, Don't inject bleach or whatever into yourselves to stop Corona, don't be a screw up like me and have a wonderful time until I see you all next!!
> 
> C&P this lads,
> 
> http://chng.it/mNDYNxcP


	17. Seventeen

Rico Rohas stared into his bathroom mirror and rubbed at his new haircut morosely. His hair wasn’t shorter than it had been, in fact, if anything it looked longer. This was something he was pleased about, he’d grown it out after he’d seen his favourite actor do the same and the haircut was quite good. The thing that puzzled him most was that he didn’t really see why it had been done. Instead of cutting it short which he knew would help disguise him, the giant redheaded woman had forced him onto a stool and given him professional layers. All the time she had been there, she hadn’t spoken a word and she didn’t have to. Even without any vocal threats he hadn’t even thought about escaping. She’d left, leaving the cut hair on the tiled bathroom floor and forced a box of hair dye into his hands, obviously she meant for him to use it. He looked down at the box, it looked expensive. There was a halfnaked man on the front, running his hand through his hair. ‘Fun and Fair’ it read. Again he didn’t understand. If they wanted him to change his appearance then they weren’t doing it very effectively. He would practically be himself. He thought about not dying it and seeing what would happen. The sight of his mother’s body falling to the ground flashed through his mind and he opened the box.

Two hours later, he stepped out of the shower and ran a towel over his head. His hair looked several shades lighter. It didn’t suit him. He looked at the discarded pyjamas in the corner and felt ill. He couldn’t put something that was covered in his mother’s blood back on. Rico wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back into the gaudy bedroom. He was surprised to see that some baggy jeans and a plain t-shirt had been delivered and folded neatly on the bed along with fresh underwear and a can of body spray. There was no one else in the room but he didn’t question it. He pulled the clothes on feeling grateful. So what if his hair was different? It would grow out eventually. 

There wasn’t much to do apart from sit around. He knew someone had to be looking for him. Teenagers didn’t just disappear, even in Belgium. He walked over to the window and looked out, pushing the heavy curtains away. The light was fading and the sun was creating shadows on the ground. There was still no indication of where he might be. There wasn’t even a clock in the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed and lay back; in seconds he was asleep. He was woken later by the sound of two footsteps on the steps and the noise of a man shouting. 

“Find him Amalyia. If Friend hears about this he’ll go berserk. Find out who those people are and stop them from contacting Friend, tell them to contact me and then we’ll negotiate his release.”

There was a soft murmur that told Rico that Amalyia had replied but he couldn’t make out the words. The footsteps were getting closer.

“When I get my hands on them they’ll pay dearly. If they’ve even hurt a hair on Alexander’s head I'll skin them alive, I want him-” the tone of the man’s voice changed, “Well, I want him safe.”

“I’ll find him, Sir.” presumably Amalyia said quietly. The footsteps had stopped; they must be right outside his door now.

“Yes, Amalyia you will.” The man said sharply, “Take Lindsay, talk to the police, talk to everyone and when you’ve found him, notify me immediately.”

“Yes, Sir.” The woman said shortly followed by the sounds of heavy feet making their way back down the stairs.

Rico got to his feet. He was about to meet the man in charge he could tell. The man who was keeping him prisoner here. The door swung open and Rico took a step back. It was the dark haired man who had killed his mother in Belgium. Hate flooded through him and he surged forward as the man turned to lock the door. 

“Where’s my father?” he demanded, hotly, “Where are Tomas and Ellie?”

The man turned and before he knew what had happened, Rico was on the floor, his cheek smarting. The man kicked his chest until he was flat on his back and then the man’s foot came to rest on top of his neck, pressing ever so slightly. 

“I do not like to be spoken to like that, Mr Rohas.” he said calmly. “I will tell you once and only once what is going to happen here. If you don’t comply you will never see your family again. If you do, then there’s a chance. Understand?” As he had spoken the foot had pressed down harder on his windpipe and Rico couldn’t do anything but nod weakly. The pressure relented and Rico sucked air back into his lungs in great gulps.

“My name is Pytor Anatolievich but you will call me Sir, understand?”

Rico nodded.

“You and your two siblings are in my care. If you try and escape, if you try and hurt me or my assistant, your brother and sister will pay.” The man's voice was clear and controlled, he sounded like he’d given this speech a thousand times over. “Between the two of them they have twenty fingers to lose, you will not be as foolish as to misbehave twenty times I’m sure.”

Rico felt sick. They were going to chop off a finger every time he did something out of line? He shuddered and shook his head. 

“So far you have been compliant and you will maintain this standard if you want your family unharmed.” he continued, “I will forgive your previous outburst as you did not know. Tonight and each night I visit you you will wear this.” he gestured to what Rico was currently wearing. “You will continue to use the hair dye that Amalyia provides for you and you will not speak unless I tell you to.” He removed his foot and motioned for Rico to sit up, crouching down next to him so they were eye to eye. 

The man continued, “I will not hurt you or your family unless you give me a reason and you will not give me that reason by trying to stop me from doing what I want to you. You will do everything I say without complaint or hesitation, are we clear?”

Rico’s blood went cold. ‘you will not give me reason by trying to stop me from doing what I want to you.” what was that supposed to mean? He looked up at Anatolievich with wide eyes and remembered the hand which had caressed his cheek the last time they had met. His heart began to pound.

“I said, are we clear?”

Rico looked around, anywhere but at the man. He had no choice, he couldn’t let Tomas lose his fingers over him; he was only seven. Slowly, Rico looked back at the man. He could only guess at what he was agreeing to but he had no choice, he nodded. 

The man smiled and Rico suddenly felt like a deer in front of a hunter. 

“From now on, I am going to call you Alexander.” Anatolievich said bluntly, “you will answer as if it is your own name.” 

Rico resisted the urge to make a face, the man was perverted. 

“Okay.” Rico forced out after a while.

“Good. Now go lie down.”

Rico remained where he was, blood rushing in his ears. He’d been right, his suspicions about the man were sickeningly correct. His heart began to pound harder and he was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

“Alexander,” Anatolievich said, quietly, “get on the bed.” It was the kind of dangerous quiet tone which Rico had heard his father use on his ‘business associates’ in Mexico. A lot of the ‘business associates’ had never left.

Shakily, Rico got to his feet and tried not to stumble as he walked to the bed, every inch of himself was trembling. He sat first and then swung his legs on, jerkily laying down against the pillows. 

Anatolievich had followed him and now stood by his head. “Turn over.”

Taking a breath he did as the man asked. For Tomas and Ellie he thought. For Tomas and Ellie. He started when the weight on the mattress changed and grew heavier at either side of his thighs. And then a hand was in his hair, twisting it unpainfully about. Rico tried to stop his trembling but he couldn’t seem to control his body. He felt cold.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a warm presence was brought close to his, covering his back like a blanket. Anatolievich was lying bodily on top of him and though the man wasn’t heavy, Rico felt like he was being suffocated. Then lips were on the skin of his neck and he tried to shy away, cringing. Anatolievich's hand that wasn’t in his hair moved up to prevent his flight. The kissing and sucking resumed and the man above let out a breathy sigh. 

“Alexander.”

Rico felt sick. Who was this Alexander? Did he let Anatolievich do this to him? Why was Rico being used as a substitute? It felt wrong and somehow it was worse that the man above him was pretending he was someone else.

From the conversation he had heard earlier, it sounded like someone was holding the real Alexander captive. A sudden flash of hope flickered through him. Maybe his father had this Alexander as leverage, maybe he was coming to save them. The thought died quickly and Rico knew that it was unlikely. He was jolted back into the present as the hand which had been in his hair made it’s way south and slipped beneath the waistband of Rico’s new jeans. He tried to move away but Anatolievich’s grip on his head and hip were too strong. He felt a tear leak from his eye and trickle down the side of his nose. Anatolievich’s hand moved round to the front of his jeans and Rico pressed his face into the pillow harder, squeezing his eyes shut. For Tomas and Ellie. For Tomas and Ellie. He didn’t even know if they were alive.

Alex woke up in pain. His first thought was that he was getting worryingly used to it. His second was his elbow felt like there was a knife twisted in it. His right foot and head were both throbbing vehemently and he was overheating. There was so much sweat on his forehead he could actually feel it and though he tried to stop himself shaking, as it was aggravating his elbow, he simply couldn’t. Something cloth and musty had been stuffed in his mouth and more of whatever it was was tied around his head to stop it from escaping. He cracked open his eyes, preparing for bright light but found that he couldn’t see anything at all. He couldn't feel a blindfold; the room must be pitch black, he couldn’t see a yard in front of him. His arms were above his head, secured to the wall by something metal and tight around his raw wrists. He felt sick and exhausted and all he really wanted was to go home. Back to his old room in Chelsea, with Ian and Jack. His chest gave a violent jerk as he hiccuped and he almost choked on his gag, coughing. A minute later tears accompanied the sweat on his face. 

Despite his clouded thoughts he knew there was something wrong with him and not just the physical injuries he had sustained. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, he knew it was important. It had something to do with Miss Sadie. But what had it been? Everything was foggy and though he tried desperately he couldn't remember. He tugged at the manacles around his wrists briefly but it was clear they weren’t going to budge. Tears began to fall more readily and suddenly everything became overwhelming. The darkness was closing in on him; he couldn’t escape it. He drew his left knee up to his chest, feeling like a frightened little boy. He didn’t dare to try to move his foot. He’d just decided to try to sleep the pain and the fear away, as at least when he was unconscious he couldn’t feel the hurt, when the door to his cell opened, banging against the wall. 

He jerked his head up to face his captors, squinting against the dim light from the hall. He saw three silhouettes outlined. Two of the guards, Murph and Toby and the smaller, slighter figure of Miss Sadie. Miss Sadie came further into the room whilst the two guards remained by the door. She bent down so she was almost face to face with him. 

“Hello, Alex”

He tried to look up at her but couldn’t meet her eyes. His breathing was still erratic and his chest was rising and falling sporadically. Her proximity and fake sweet as sugar smile was not helping his feeling of claustrophobia, he couldn’t even tell her to back off. 

“Now, I’m going to ask you some more questions and you’re going to answer them.” She said, smiling broadly. There was lipstick on her teeth. “If you answer correctly, you’re not going to get hurt. Clear?”

He sucked in what little air he could through the gag and nodded. 

“Perfect.” 

She reached forward and tugged the gag out of his mouth, pulling it down under his chin. She cupped his cheek and gently raised his face so he was looking at her. Her hand didn’t move from his chin.

“Now, we’ll start nice and easy. What do you know about Yassen Gregorovitch?” 

Whatever he had expected her to ask, this wasn’t it. His eyebrows furrowed and he thought he must have misheard.

“I’m sorry?”

Her hand cracked over the side of his face. A ring cutting into his cheek. He couldn’t help the gasp of pain that escaped him.

“Gregorovitch,” she repeated roughly, “we know you’ve had dealings with him. What do you know?”

Alex shrugged. The man was dead, there was no point in hiding information. “I’ve not had dealings with him, I've met him if that’s what you mean. He’s a contract killer, he killed my uncle and he was shot dead by Damien Cray.”

“Now,” Miss Sadie said softly, as if she was talking to a toddler, “that wasn’t so hard was it?”

Alex said nothing. 

“Now, Alexei Sarov, how did he die?”

How could she know about that? The first time they’d kidnapped him he’d sensed something off, like they hadn’t wanted to hurt him. This time it was less like they didn’t want to cause pain and more like the information he was giving up was practically useless.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just humour me.”

Alex set his jaw. “He shot himself.” he said curtly. 

“Why?”

Alex chewed on his lip, feeling tears beginning to well up in the corner of his eyes. 

“I don’t know.” He lied. His voice was quivering, giving him away.

“Yes you do, Alex. Hurry up and tell me, I don’t have all day.”

“Well isn’t that a shame?” Alex asked, smiling up at her, “Unfortunately, I do.”

She met his gaze, and without warning, drew her leg back and kicked the underside of his right foot, pushing the shards of glass further in.. He yelled, wishing the gag had still been in his mouth to muffle the sound. 

“Why did he do it Alex?”

He hung his head, looking determinedly at the floor. “Because I said I’d rather be dead than have a father like him.” he muttered. He’d replayed those words a thousand times in his mind. 

She ruffled his hair. “Good boy.” 

He scowled at the ground but didn’t make any move to stop her. 

“Now as you’re being so good, why don’t we try something a little harder, hm?” Her long nails began combing his hair. “Why are you staying with Pytor Anatolievich?”

“Because I was told to.”

The fingers in his hair pulled up roughly and he winced. “No Alex, you misunderstand me. What does MI6 want with Pytor Anatolievich?”

“Well, the short answer is I don’t know.” he said, suddenly feeling braver. “That’s the long answer too actually.” 

She yanked his head back, her fingers pawing at his throat, pressing lightly on his trachea. “I don’t think you understand the position you’re in Alex. No one knows where you are, there are two men back there who would very dearly enjoy hurting you and there’s a third outside. I am here to see if I can get you to talk without unnecessary violence.”

Alex opened his mouth to speak but she cut across him. 

“All the injuries you have are your own stupid fault for trying to escape.” she said matter-of-factly. 

“Does your fiance know that you beat up children for a living?” Alex cut in, keeping his voice calm. He could still feel the sting of her engagement ring on his cheek. 

Shock flitted across Miss Sadies face and her eyes narrowed. She stood back up to her full height and walked calmly toward the door, flicking on the light, Alex closed his eyes immediately. “You know what to do boys.”

The door swung closed behind her and he squinted up at the two men advancing on him. Their twin smirks were not comforting. The first man he’d knocked out earlier stooped down to his level as Miss Sadie had done earlier. He grinned, showing horribly yellow teeth.

“Not so brave now are you?” he leered, hot breath blowing across his cheek. 

Alex said nothing. Before he knew what had happened, there was an agonising pain in his elbow. Yellow Teeth’s hand was wrapped around it, and he was squeezing. Alex let out a yell of pain. After ten seconds, the man hadn’t let up and Alex looked up at him through a haze of tears. The man's face was blurred and obscured by his fringe. 

“Stop.”

Yellow Teeth squeezed tighter. 

“STOP!”

The other guard walked around his companion and squatted down next to him. He was uncomfortably close, cupping the side of Alex’s head, his touch as gentle as Miss Sadies had been. The man played with a curl just above his ear, twisting it around his finger. He leant in and whispered, “I don’t think you’re in any position to shout demands at us, lad.” 

Yellow Teeth gave another squeeze.

The tears that had been dammed fell. 

“Aw look at him Murph,” grinned the man by his ear, “the little boy is crying.” he wiped the tear off Alex’s face roughly with his thumb. 

“Maybe we should let off?” Yellow Teeth asked his partner, but there was no sincerity behind his words. 

“Yeah maybe,” agreed what Alex deduced must be Toby, “or-”

Once again, Alex didn’t notice him move, but a second later he felt the glass which was still lodged in the tender skin of his right foot pushed further in. Alex tried to wrench his foot out of the man’s grasp but there was no escaping his iron hold. 

“FUCK.” 

“Uh-uh, don’t swear-”

“What do you want to know!?”

Toby smiled, knotting his fingers in his hair and tugging lightly. “We don’t want to know anything. We’re just here to make sure you behave in front of the mistress.”

The man at his feet drew out a small knife and moved up toward his chest. He pressed the blade to the soft underside of his right upper arm. 

“No, no.”

The blade sunk in slightly and Alex gasped in pain.

“Beg me to stop.” Yellow Teeth said maliciously. 

Shock raced through him. “What?”

“Beg me not to do it.” Yellow Teeth smiled. “Be a nice little boy and say please.”

“No.”

The man pushed the knife in further. 

“NO! Please. Please stop. I’m sorry. Please.” 

“That’s what I wanted to hear!” cried Yellow Teeth. “Again.”

Alex grimaced and tried to wrench his arm away from the man’s hand, but he was stopped as the two men held him steady. The door banged open once again and Alex sagged, more guards was never good news. But it wasn’t another guard, it was Robert. 

“Hey Robert.” he breathed.

The man smiled, “Hey Alex. I’ve got a present for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

The man dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a pair of pliers, waving them. 

Trying to retain some of his previous bravado Alex raised an eyebrow and said, “And here I was thinking you were pleased to see me.” 

Robert laughed loudly and echoed around the room. “Brave one isn’t he?”

“Don’t let the brat fool you,” Yellow Teeth muttered, “he’s been crying and wailing just until you got here.”

“Is that so?” Robert asked curiously, he came to a stop in front of Alex, “Murph, get out the way and unlock his hand.”

“Which one?”

“Don’t care.” Robert stated simply. “Now Alex, you’re a smart boy. I think you can guess what we’re going to do to you.”

Alex nodded minutely. They were going to pull his fingernails off. 

“Good lad, now choose a finger.” 

“No.”

“Alex. Choose one or they’ll all go.”

There was a click and Alex felt the shackle around his wrist come apart and without anything to support it his arm fell onto his lap. Robert took his hand in his own larger one and spread his fingers. 

“Which one is it to be?”

Feeling sick Alex looked away and flexed his pinky finger. 

“Atta boy.” Robert nodded up at the two guards at either side of him. “Boys.”

Toby, the man by his left ear, grabbed his right shoulder and forearm, his own arms surrounding Alex’s body in a mockery of a hug. Murph, or Yellow Teeth as Alex thought of him, walked around the little group on the floor and held his ankles in a strong grip. Robert smoothed a thumb over the back of Alex’s hand and Alex looked away deliberately. 

There was a sharp tug then a horrible sliding feeling and Alex screamed. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck.” 

Red hot pain exploded in his little finger and he sobbed, his body shaking. Toby's hand returned to his hair and caressed it. Alex sniffed loudly. 

“One more Alex, and then we’ll leave you.”

“No, please.” 

“Which one, Alex?”

“Please.”

Robert sighed. “Guess I’ll choose for you then.” He beckoned to the others. “Boys.”

Toby's arms encased him again and Alex turned his face into the man’s chest, despite himself. 

“Please, no. Please. Please.”

“Put his gag back in.”

Rough hands stuffed the musty cloth back into his mouth and before he could spit it out more cloth came up to wrap round his head to keep it in. 

The thumb slid across the back of his hand again in a mockery of gentleness. An illusion which was shattered by the strong grip on the rest of his hand as the pliers took their place on his index finger. Alex shut his eyes. He didn’t even try to hold back the scream this time and openly sobbed as his nail was torn off. He didn’t care if they saw him cry anymore. 

A calloused hand patted his cheek roughly and the men around him got up to leave in unison. He briefly noted that they had left his right hand unshackled but he didn’t even entertain the idea of an escape attempt. The overheating, headache and sickness seemed to have passed but his elbow, foot and right hand hurt more than anything he could ever remember. Even being shot hadn’t felt quite so bad, at least he’d blacked out soon after it had happened. The light flicked off and a couple of taunts were spat his way. They fell on deaf ears as he curled up in the dark, sobbing and cradling his hand. 

“Sabina?” Brad asked worriedly. “What’s going on?”

“Perhaps you should leave Miss Pleasure and I to talk alone, Mr Coaches.” The assassin suggested, “I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Sabina’s heart was hammering. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, her own eyes were betraying her. She clutched Brad’s arm and moved so she was between the other two. 

“Brad,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “go wait outside.”

Brad looked between her and the supply teacher. “Sabina, what’s happening? Is this to do with Alex?”

“Yes.” She didn’t see the point in denying it, “now wait outside.”

“But I-”

She turned to him, irritated. “Now.”

Brad looked reluctant but nodded and threw his phone down on the desk. “Fine.”

Sabina and the man across from her watched him go. The door clicked behind him and they turned back to face one another. There was silence

“How are you alive?” 

She had meant for it to come out as a demand but her voice was barely a whisper. 

“The heart pumps blood around the body,” Gregorovitch said in a deadpan voice. “oxygen is taken in by the lungs-” 

Sabina folded her arms. “You got shot.”

“Yes.”

“And you‘re not dead.”

“No.”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

“That, Miss Pleasure, is the only intelligent question you’ve asked.” Sabina felt her cheeks warm.

“If you’re going to just insult me, I’m going to leave.”

Gregorovitch fixed her with his steely gaze. “No, Miss Pleasure, you are not.”

Sabina’s heart gave a particularly dull thump. “Is that a threat?”

Gregorovitch looked her up and down. She felt like she was being examined. “It is a fact. You will not leave because you are naturally inquisitive. You will not leave because you want to find your friend Alex Rider. You will not leave because I need you.”

Sabina shook her head. “It’s Pleasure.” 

Gregorvitch’s eyes narrowed slightly and she elaborated. 

“It’s Alex Pleasure now.” 

Gregorovitch shook his head. “It is not. He is Rider everywhere but at school.”

Sabina didn’t reply, she hadn’t known that. Alex’s name not being changed anywhere but at school seemed so temporary. Had MI6 or the CIA been planning to drag him back into all of this even as they were setting up his new life?

“Miss Pleasure?” Sabina looked up at him. The assassin was looking with interest down at the piece of paper he had taken from her. “What is this?”

“Just a bit of fun. Codes, y’know.” 

The assassin raised one eyebrow cooly; clearly not believing her. He looked her straight in the eye, his face honest. “I don’t enjoy hurting children Miss Pleasure,” he stated “but for all my virtues, I am not a patient man. Tell me what this is now or I’ll push my qualms away and break your pretty nose.”

Sabina’s heart felt like it was trying to break out through her ribs. She’d just tried to lie to an assassin. She nodded and held her hand out for the paper.

Gregorovitch looked at her hand then up to her face. She must have looked sufficiently scared for him to trust that she wouldn’t try anything and he gave it to her.

“It was a message from Alex a couple of days ago.” She rushed out, all in one breath. “He’s...missing.” She didn’t know how much this man knew but she wasn’t going to give him any information he didn’t specifically ask for. “It’s in a sort of code,” she explained, “we were both learning about it in English. Even though he’s younger than I am he’s in the same English class because we’re behind the british school-”

“Miss Pleasure, I fear you are straying from the point.” 

She nodded, her cheeks warming again. “He messaged Brad, I think he knew that Brad would come straight to me and because-” she paused, “well I think because he knows my family's phones are being monitored.”

It was something she could only guess at but she was almost certain of it. She’d phoned her parents right after Alex had been kidnapped and agents had already been at her house. The assassin didn’t speak. Obviously it was plausible then. 

She nodded and pointed at the first line, her finger shaking. She curled it back into her fist to hide her tremors. 

“He used the name Danny Drinkwater, it’s-”

“Irrelevant. Hurry up.”

She was about to protest about being spoken to that way but then remembered who exactly was by her side.

“Right, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he snapped, “keep going and keep it short.”

She sucked in a breath and continued, “Pretty means crafty here,” she pointed, “and Blunt is-” she stopped short, would the assassin know?

“I know who Alan Blunt is, Miss Pleasure.”

“Right.” She nodded, “A fantastic cause means imaginary cause. Which I think means that whoever kidnapped-”

“Kidnapped?” Gregorovitch cut in. 

Sabina bit her lip. “Yes, kidnapped.” Finally she knew something the assassin didn’t. The man nodded curtly. 

“Continue.”

“Then he says that he’s visiting a friend of a Friend. The second friend means Sir David Friend, so it’s someone he knows. Then he mentions you.” She waited for a reaction in the man but when it didn’t come she ploughed on. “He says that he has a lot in common with you which we think means that the guy he’s with is russian.”

“Anatol.”

She looked up in surprise. “Yes. That’s the name the Lieutenant gave us.”

“Lieutenant Stanley?”

She blinked. “Yes. Do you know him?”

“He told me some information. He wouldn’t tell me where Alex is.”

Sabina took a step back from the man, “What do you want with Alex?” 

Gregorovitch looked at her but didn’t say anything. 

“Are you going to hurt him?” she asked quietly, lip wobbling.

“I was shot for him,” Gregorovitch said plainly, “it wouldn’t make any sense for me to render my own efforts useless. Now continue.”

Sabina took in a deep breath. “He says you’re similar, which means this man Anatol is dangerous, and that-” she swallowed, “that this man will want to bully him and he doesn’t want that to happen.”

The assassin didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t explain and looked down at the piece of paper himself. 

“And you think ‘bully’ means-”

“Yes.”

There was silence. 

“What do you want with Alex?” she asked.

“I want to help him.”

“Why?”

The man didn’t reply but checked his watch. “Where is Alex, Miss Pleasure?”

“How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won’t hurt Alex?”

“Miss Pleasure, tell me where Alex is now and I won’t hurt you. Don’t tell me and I will.” 

Sabina looked around in panic. She didn’t know what to do. She thought that Alex would probably spit in the assassin’s face and tell him to fuck off, but she didn’t think she was capable of it. She didn’t know if she should tell him or not. On the one hand, it did seem unlikely that he would try and kill Alex after saving him on Air Force one but on the other this man lied for a living. He’d lied about being dead, he’d killed people. He’d killed Alex’s own uncle. He’d sent Alex chasing after Scorpia. She didn’t know what to do. In the end, she shocked herself as the words came tumbling out of her mouth. 

“It’ll tell you if you take me with you.”

“Out of the question.”

She readied her stance, gritting her teeth. “Then I won’t say.”

Gregorovitch moved so they were face to face, mere inches away. “Miss Pleasure, I don’t think you understand the position you’re in right now.” 

His voice was calm but angry. Definitely angry. 

“I’ll tell you where Alex is when we’re on the way there.”

“Or you can tell me now, and I won’t break your nose.”

“I can help.”

The assassin gave what sounded like a laugh. “How?”

“I can get you out of the school.”

“Why would I need that?”

She pointed past the man’s head and out the window. “Because there’s five men with machine guns coming in the gate.”

Gregorovitch turned. She hadn’t been lying. 

“Very well Miss Pleasure.” He said smoothly, “Get me out of San Francisco and I’ll let you come with me.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“You don’t. But if you care for Alex as much as I think you do then you’ll take that chance. I have the resources and the skills to save him, you do not. I am his best hope.”

Sabina chewed on her lip, it was a nasty habit she’d picked up from Alex. but how would Alex make sure he was invited along? An idea formed in her brain.

“Fine, but I won't tell you where he is straight away. I’ll give you places along the way and each time we get to the next one I’ll tell you another, that way you have to take me with you.”

“Or, Miss Pleasure, I could hurt you now.”

She shook her head, finally feeling brave. “Alex would never forgive you.”

The assassin glanced out the window, thinking. Finally he said, “You can come with me.”

Sabina didn’t smile. “Do you have a gun?” she asked him. The question felt childish. 

The assassin nodded. 

“Hold it to my head,” she said calmly. Must more calmly than she felt, “walk me out of the school gates. They won’t risk shooting a child.”

The assassin nodded. “It will be easier for you to return if they think you’re a hostage.”

“Let’s go.” She headed for the door but stopped when she realised the assassin wasn’t following her. 

Gregorvitch walked over to the desk where Sabina and Brad had been sitting and flipped over the phone. He picked it up and showed her.

“Your little friend has been recording our conversation.”

Sabina stood in shock. “I didn’t know-”

“I know.” 

He pressed the ‘Stop’ button and threw it to her. She fumbled but managed to stop it from falling to the floor.

“You decide what to do with it. I am already a fugitive, it will mean nothing to me if it’s exposed. You however, you will be found out as my accomplice. Decide if you trust him enough not to spill your secrets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> Sorry for the wait. I have all this free time but what am I doing with it? Repeatedly checking for an update of Bad Cards by Cthulhu_is_Chaotic_Good and scrolling through TikTok. Oh and FREAKING OUT about the show.
> 
> I'm still not sure how I feel. I love some of it, I'm confused about some more and am unsure about others. The more I think about it the more I see why they changed some of the big things in the books. Like Smithers. At first I was like, what the fuck is this but now I get that this new Smithers really fits the tone of the show more. But what the fuck is the basement HQ? Also if anyone has a subscription to The Times can you send me the article they did on the show? I want to read it but you need a subscription and it's like thirty quid and lads, I don't have that kind of money to spend on one article. Anyway. 
> 
> I love the show. I think. I get that they needed Kyra so they could voice all the thoughts which are written inside Alex's head but honestly, she wasn't my favourite ever character. And Alex making them take him back to Point Blanc? eh, didn't love that either. Everyone keeps talking about the Scream scene and how bad it is. But sleep deprivation and continued exposure to loud noises is an actual form of torture. And I love how they've made Alex more of a party boy and a rebel breaking into school, it's classic teenager stuff and I love it.
> 
> Yassen will never replace book Yassen though. Also I love Mrs Jones as a villain and she showed just a little too much concern for Alex I think. Blunt was stellar though and the way he found out about Ian's death was *chef's kiss*
> 
> What did you think about it?
> 
> Also sorry for the heavy angst and the torture and stuff in this chapter. I got carried away. I've changed the tags just in case. ThE Rico scene was so hard to write, but I feel like it really captures the horror and evilness of the Russian dick. (I don't have his name on copy and paste and I still haven't learnt how to spell it.)
> 
> Hopefully I'll update quicker? Maybe? I want to. 
> 
> So let me know what you think, tell me if you want me to tone down the graphicness of the less than pleasant scenes and let's hope that we get an update of Bad Cards soon. I'm dying to learn what happens. 
> 
> Hope you're all staying well! 
> 
> And er, sorry for everything I put you through Alex. And Rico. And Sab…. Heavy angst for all of you.


	18. Eighteen

Calico watched with the rest of his unit, unable to do anything as the blond assassin walked calmly out of the school, his gun held to a young girl's head. She was dressed in the school’s uniform, her hair loose down her back and her hands were visibly shaking. They were just close enough to see her face and she looked terrified. Calico suspected that he would be too if Yassen Gregorovitch was holding a gun to his head. 

“Calico!”

He turned round. Soy was pointing toward the school. He followed the man’s arm and saw where he was pointing. A group of school students were staring at the scene through the window open mouthed. 

Fuck. This was going to be hard to explain to their Lieutenant. They were just supposed to be keeping an eye on the school, none of them thought anything would actually happen. He directed his attention back to the assassin, raising his gun a little higher.

“Mr Gregorovitch,” he called, “you have until the count of three to put the gun down and let the girl go.”

Gregorovitch looked directly into Calico’s eyes, icy blue into brown. “Or what?”

“Or we’ll shoot you.”

The assassin shook his head, “No, you won’t. You want me alive, so you won’t go for a headshot and despite appearances, you’re not as dumb or idiotic as you look, which means that you know you can’t shoot me without shooting her.” He gave the girl a little shake and she whimpered loudly. 

“There’s no need for that Mr Gregorovitch.” He called. He kept one eye on the assassin, whispering to Soy who was standing two paces behind him. “Does Diamond have an open shot?”

“You’re no doubt trying to ascertain whether your sharpshooter has a clear shot.” Gregorovtich called, “I will save you the trouble by telling you that he does not.” It wasn’t arrogant in the way he said it, just like it was an obvious fact. 

Calico’s face dropped, “Is he right?” There was silence from Soy. “I said, is he right?”

There was a crackle of the radio. “Diamond, can you take the shot?”

“Negative.”

Calico swore loudly. Gregorovitch smiled. 

“What’s happening?” It was the girl, tears were pooling in her eyes, her cheeks were flushed and her voice was high with terror. “Help me, please.” Her tone changed a second later to demanding. “Why are you all just standing there?”

Reefer stepped forward, his gun lowered and his arms outstretched “It’s going to be alright Miss.” 

“This lunatic has a gun to my head!” The girl all but shouted at him, “Don’t-” she cut herself off as the gun pressed itself closer to her temple. 

“Gregorovitch, put your gun down!” Calico shouted.

“No.”

“Are you incompetant?” shouted the girl, she was staring at Calico. She clearly didn’t realise who was behind her or quite how much danger she was in. 

“Miss, he’s not going to shoot you,” Calico said calmly, “I’d stake my reputation on it.”

“Well that’s not saying much is it!?” 

Despite himself, Calico felt his cheeks colour. The assassin looked like he was trying not to smile which somehow made it worse. 

“You’re not going to shoot her Gregorovitch.” Reefer said bluntly. 

“And why’s that?” Gregorovitch stepped to his right, toward the school gate, dragging the girl with him. She stumbled a little, her stride smaller than the assassins. 

“Because if you do,” Calico cut in, “I’ll lock you up for so long, the walls will start crumbling around you.” 

The assassin’s eyebrow quirked upward. Simultaneously, there was a tumultuous bang followed by the shattering of glass. They turned as a unit toward the noise. A second later a hail of glass shards rained down upon them. Calico and his unit crouched, trying to protect themselves from the falling missiles. They barely had time to realise it had stopped when pieces of tile from the roof replaced the glass and they scrambled backwards, looking up at the roof. 

“What the fuck was that?” Calico shouted over the noise of the tiles crashing and breaking on the ground, “Who did that?”

Reefer looked at the roof, his eyes wild, “Diamond, come in.”

“I’m here, I’m fine, what about you?” came Diamond’s reply from over the radio, “Was that Gregorovitch?”

“We’re bruised but fine and we don’t know.” 

“Who else could it have been?” Spinner asked.

“Calico!” shouted Diamond from over the radio, “Gregorovitch and the girl. They’ve gone!”

The unit sprung from their place on the floor and were up on their feet in an instant, running full pelt towards the gates.

“SHIT!” Calico swore, turning to Reefer “Where are F and G units?”

Spinner, who was on his other side answered, “Not even in Florida.”

“Shit.”

They looked around the street, Gregorovitch and the girl were nowhere to be seen. A white sedan passed them slowly, the sole occupant a middle aged woman.

“Shit.” Calico repeated. “Right, let’s spit up, Spinner, go south, Soy you take the east, I’ll go north and Diamond can do the west. Got it?”

They nodded in unison. 

“Let’s go.”

Alex couldn’t stop crying. He knew it was pointless but the tears wouldn’t stop. He knew it made him look weak and scared, but his hand hurt. He didn’t like to admit it but he was scared. He’d tried to distract himself by trying to work out just exactly who it was who had kidnapped him but he just didn’t know. At first he was sure it had been MI6, nothing had seemed right and they had all been too gentle. Being too gentle wasn’t an issue anymore though apparently, he didn’t think Blunt was capable of ordering someone to hurt him like this, at least he hoped he wasn’t. Whoever these people were, they definitely weren’t Scorpia. Maybe they were just Scorpia admirers out for revenge like Blunt and Jones had suggested. He sniffed. He wanted to wipe his face free of snot and tears but his left hand was still cuffed above him and he didn’t dare move his right. 

He didn’t know how long Robert and the guards had been gone but it seemed like forever until the door opened again, flooding the room with light. It was a woman he didn’t recognise, taller and broader than Miss Sadie, with a bag hanging from her shoulder. Alex couldn’t help himself and tried to press himself further into the wall, drawing his shoulders into himself.

“Don’t worry kid.” she said plainly, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

He looked up at her, doubtfully. She tugged down the gag and he sucked in a long breath.

“Then why are you here?” he asked warily. 

“Bathroom.” She said simply.

“Oh.”

The woman leaned forward across Alex to unlock the cuff on his left hand and he briefly thought about sweeping her legs from under her but he was too exhausted to move. There was a click and the cuff came undone. Without anything to hold it up, Alex’s arm dropped to his lap and he moaned in pain. 

“Sorry kid, but you’re going to have to get up now.” It sounded like she meant it so he didn’t offer a sarky reply. She held out her arm and gestured for him to hold it. He clutched at her sleeves with his thumb and two middle fingers and pulled himself up off the floor, making sure to protect his right foot. 

“It’s not far.”

Alex nodded and they limped slowly toward the door. He didn't even think about escape. He knew he wouldn’t get far, not like this. She led him to a door a metre down the hall to the left and opened it for him.

“It’ll wait here, knock on the door when you’re done.”

He nodded and entered the bathroom alone, hearing her slide a lock across from the outside. It was difficult with his elbow and hand the way they were but he managed to go eventually. Once he was done, he closed the toilet lid and sat down. Taking a deep breath he picked as much glass as he could out of his foot, biting hard on his lip to prevent himself from making too much noise. The pieces of glass he picked out were small and tricky and he couldn’t see how they could be useful so he threw them across the room childishly. Once all the glass he could see was out, he walked over to the dirty mirror and inspected his reflection. His fringe was sticking to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks were flushed red. He turned the tap on with his working fingers and tried to splash water onto his face, wiping the tears and mucus off his skin. He walked over to the door and tapped. For a second he was irrationally scared she’d leave it locked, but then it slid open and her arm was held out toward him. He took it again, and she led him back over to the dark cell, the door open ready. It looked scarier than it had before. He stopped, letting go of her arm.

“Please,” he said desperately, “please don’t put me back in there.”

She didn’t look moved. “Sorry, but it’s orders.”

“Please,” he tried again, “look at me, you know what they’re doing isn’t right.”

“Kid, I don’t care,” she said, her voice devoid of emotions, “You can either go back in voluntarily or I can call Toby down here and he’ll make you.”

Alex bit his lip, obviously she didn’t have as much as conscience as he’d thought. He didn’t want to be hurt anymore. He sniffed “Okay.”

He took her arm and limped back into the room feeling sick. She gently let him down to the floor. 

“Stretch your arms,” she said in a business-like manner, “you won’t get another chance.”

He extended his right arm and rotated his wrist. Once he’d signaled he was done she took his wrist in her hand and pulled it above his head, up to the metal cuff. He tried to jerk his arm out of her grasp but she was surprisingly strong. 

“You’re hurting me!”

“That’s unavoidable.”

He heard the click as his arm was fastened back in place. He glared at her, taking the woman in. Now that she was closer he saw she looked about forty, but the crows feet around her eyes and waxy skin made her look older. She was dressed in regular clothes, jeans and a buttoned cardigan. His gaze landed on the bag she was carrying.

“Now the left.”

He fixed her with a blank stare. She looked confused then noticed his left elbow. “Oh.” She checked the fastening on his right cuff and got up to leave. 

“Wait!” he said, wishing her could stop her with his hand. “Do you have any painkillers in your bag?”

“Yes.”

“Are you allowed to give them to me?” he asked hopefully. 

She nodded and opened up her bag. Alex saw several pill packets, disinfectant, bandages and small syringes full of clear liquid. An idea formed in his mind.

“What about anything else?”

“Robert won’t like it.”

That wasn’t a no. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

“Only if you’re willing to pay for it later.”

He nodded. He didn’t like the thought of more pain, but at least he’d have a weapon if his plan went smoothly. 

She rolled her eyes and sat down on the floor. “Right, what do you want?”

“Can I have a sling? For my arm?”

She considered this. “I don’t see why not. It’s not like you can use it as a weapon with the condition you're in.” She pulled out a strip of fabric from her bag and wrapped it over his right shoulder and under his left arm, tying it round his neck. She sat back on her heels. 

“Anything else?” 

“Disinfectant, for my fingers.” She raised her eyebrows. “Please,” he added. 

“That’s better.”

She took out a couple of cotton wool pads from the bag and deposited disinfectant onto them. She looked first at his left hand, then moved up to inspect his right. 

“This is going to hurt.” She pressed the cotton pads to his fingers and he sucked in a breath. 

“Ow. Ow. Ow.”

She held the pads in place with her left hand and grabbed bandages with the other. She moved round him to get closer to his hand. It was now or never. 

Reaching out slowly with his left hand he snagged the medical bag. He couldn’t pull it towards him without creating noise, he needed a distraction. A second later she gave him the perfect opportunity. She pressed the cotton pads into the end of his fingers roughly. He didn’t have to fake the yell of pain he gave. Whilst she was distracted, he managed to pull the bag closer to him and grab a syringe from the top of the bag. He cautiously maneuvered his hand to put the syringe into his sling. It was the only thing he had been able to grab quick enough. He didn’t know what was in it, but at least he had a sort of weapon. 

“Fingers are bandaged.” 

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, “can I have some painkillers?”

She huffed, “Don’t want much do you?” she asked sarcastically but pulled her bag towards her, thankfully she didn’t notice that it wasn’t where she had left it. 

“Right,” she said, looking through her supplies, “you want painkillers or something to make you sleep?”

He thought about it. “I want to sleep.”

She pursed her lips and pulled out a syringe, identical to the one he’d stolen. “It’ll make you drowsy rather than knock you out straight away, you’ll be lucid for about ten minutes then it’ll kick in, okay?”

He nodded, “Okay.”

She wiped his upper left arm with a swab and he was nervous she’d look down and see the syringe. Thankfully, she didn’t notice and injected the clear liquid into his arm. Hopefully it was what she said it was. 

“Thank you.” he said honestly. 

She hummed disinterestedly, pushing the gag back into his mouth. He didn’t really see the point of it, he didn’t think that anyone would be able to hear if he screamed anyway. She packed up her kit and walked over to the door and didn’t look back at him as she left though he thought he might have heard a few words said in farewell. The door clanged shut behind her and the room was plunged back into darkness. He drew his left leg up to his chest and tried to move into a comfortable position. A few minutes later his thoughts were becoming blurry around the edges and he could feel himself descending into sleep. He was glad, hopefully things would look better when he woke up. Somehow, he doubted it. 

He had been depressingly right. He woke up just as the limp form of Robert stumbled and fell on top of him, there was a gurgling noise from the man's neck as he tried to speak. He was lying on his front, head was tilted upward on Alex’s chest, his chin digging into his collar bone. His speech was somewhat impeded by the fact that his throat was slashed open. Alex tried to recoil but whatever the woman had given him was still in effect and it stopped his movements. He was dimly aware of shouting and gunfire but his mind was still clouded from sleep. The man's eyes were glassy, seemingly looking up at him, mouth lolling open. Alex screamed around the cloth in his mouth, still trying to move away. Blood was gushing from the two parallel gashes in the man's chest, the inside of which was visible.. They extended from his throat down to his navel. Twenty seconds later, Alex was completely covered in his blood, and he’d managed to calm down a little, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He felt sick and almost threw up. Through the noise from outside the open door of his cell he heard a voice which he was sickeningly glad to hear. Anatolievich. 

“Alexander?”

Alex didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t be heard anyway and even if he would be, he wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure he could open his mouth without being immediately sick. He tried to wiggle out from underneath the dead body but the drug the woman had given him seemed to have dulled the receptors in his muscles. His arm was locked in place too, he couldn’t move. There was a gunshot and then a sickening thud from outside the door and another body fell, head bouncing almost comically off the floor. It was Toby the guard.  
Gunfire sounded again and the body twitched, the back of his head caving. Alex closed his eyes and looked away. He was going to be sick. Robert’s body was still warm and his blood even warmer. There was a loud footstep and Alex looked back over at the door. Anatolievich stepped into view and Alex sagged against the wall with relief. A second later he felt ill, he knew what the man was, and here Alex was actually glad to see him. 

“Alexander!” Anatolievich’s voice was full of concern and he ran toward him, leather shoes slapping against the concrete floor. 

Alex whimpered as Anatolievich pulled the gag out of his mouth and tugged Robert’s limp body off him. Alex turned to the side and threw up. He looked up at the russian. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he whispered, brushing a piece of Alex’s hair behind his ear, “Amaliya!” 

A second later, the hulking form of his assistant appeared in the cell, she turned on the light and Alex whimpered at the brightness. “Sir.” she nodded curtly. 

“Find a key for the shackles, NOW!.”

She nodded and left, bending over Toby, moving out of view once she patted him down.

“Are you okay?” Anatolievich asked, turning back to him, dark eyes wide.

Alex nodded, offering a forced smile through the tears which had started, “Better now.”

“What did they do to you?”

“They just pushed me around a bit,” he admitted, “but then I tried to escape and-” his tears fell faster and his lip wobbled. He wasn’t even acting. 

Anatolievich enveloped him in a hug, and despite all he knew of the man Alex felt himself relaxing into it. It was nice to be touched without the intent of injury or pretend gentleness. The concern Anatolievich showed was more genuine than anything Alex could remember experiencing after Jack. It was nice. 

“Sir!” Amaliya was back. With a key. She passed it to Anatolievich and he unlocked the cuff holding Alex’s hand to the wall. It fell into his lap but it stayed there for only a second as Anatolievich picked it up inspecting his bandaged fingers.

“What did they do here?” he asked

“My fingernails - he,” He nodded to Robert’s body on the floor, “he made me choose and then he pulled-.”

Anatolievich’s arms wrapped themselves tighter around him and he drew Alex to his chest. “No one will ever hurt you again Alexander, I swear it.”

Alex wasn’t sure what to say so he settled for nodding against Anatolievich’s shoulder. They stayed there for what seemed like forever but eventually Anatolievich shifted and nudged his head up. 

“Come on, we need to get home. The police will be here soon.”

Alex nodded, slowly getting to his feet using Anatolievich’s arm as support. They limped towards the door though after a few paces the russian man stopped making Alex stumble. Without a seconds warning, he was swept up off his feet, finding himself being carried bridal style by Anatolievich. Alex didn’t have it in him to feel uncomfortable with the proximity. 

They made it out of the door and if he had been standing Alex knew that his knees would have given way at the sight that greeted them. The three guards who had tortured him were all writhing on the floor, some kind of wire was wrapped around each of their throats, connected to each other. The wire was slowly cutting into the soft flesh of their necks, making them bleed out slowly, aggravated by the movements they were making. Movements which were inescapable because of the bullet wounds in the centre of their chests. It would be a slow and horrible death. As he watched the horrific display before him, Alex met Toby's eyes then turned to the side in Anatolievich’s arms and threw up. As it turned out there wasn’t much to come out of his stomach and eventually he was left dry heaving. A hand came up to fondle his hair and he flinched away from it; the hand didn’t move. 

“Take a good look Alexander.” Anatolievich murmured, “you don’t know how far I’d go to protect you.”

Alex felt sick. This had been done for him? He turned over and dry heaved some more. They made their way down the corridor, stepping over the guards and finally came out into the sun. It looked as if it were early morning. 

“What time is it?” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Around 4am.”

Had it only been that long? It had seemed like so much longer. 

“You’re going to have to stand on your own for a second okay?” 

Alex nodded and he was lowered to the floor lightly, swaying on the spot once Anatolievich’s hand left him. He looked around. They were in the backyard of a rundown one story building which was surrounded by trees. The paint was peeling on the outside and there was a definite smell of manure. Alex wrinkled his nose up, it was so strong he was surprised he hadn’t smelt it inside. 

There was the sound of a car door opening from behind him and then a hand was back at his elbow. 

“The driver will take you home okay?” 

Alex had barely nodded when Anatolievich moved off. Alex turned around to look. A silver rolls royce was parked ten metres away. Joseph, the driver, was stood next to it, staring at Alex in horror. His face was pale but he managed a sort of smile and jogged over to him. 

“Hey Kid.”

Alex offered him a small smile, “Hey”

“Jesus what happened to you?” Joseph asked, taking Alex’s good elbow gently, guiding him towards the car “You look rough.”

Alex went to shrug but then thought better of it, “Guess these people really don’t like my dad.”

“David Friend?”

“That’s him.” 

“Didn’t you tear gas your school a couple of years ago or something?” 

Alex cast his mind back to the cover story MI6 had given him for Point Blanc, “or something.” he agreed. He bent down and ducked into the car, sliding into the seat careful not to aggravate his injuries. The door slammed behind him and Joseph walked around the Rolls Royce getting into the driver's seat, turning the key and pulling out of the yard. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, though he knew full well where there were headed. But where would the injured pseudo Alex Friend want to go? “My mum and dad-” 

“Sorry kid, they’re not allowed to see you,” Joseph said, glancing back at him, “intelligence thinks that putting you in the same place as your dad is high risk. We’re going back to the house. I think you’re going to have to stay there too, no more trips out.”

“Great.” Alex said sarcastically. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be around.” 

“Oh?”

“I’ve been given a new job. Apparently I’m a ‘trusted member of staff,’” he said proudly, throwing up air quotes with his left hand. “Everyone back at the house is under suspicion. Mr Anatolievich even questioned the belgian police guy.”

Alex gave a low whistle, it was easier to relax away from the cell, away from Anatolievich. An hour of non-stop chattering from Joseph later, they pulled up back outside the house. 

“Home sweet home.” Alex murmured under his breath. 

“There’s a nurse waiting inside,” Joseph told him, turning round in his seat, “she’ll see to your injuries.” 

“She hot?”

Joseph gave a barking laugh. “Dude, she’s like seventy.”

“I see,” Alex said mockingly, “I’d be too young for her. You might have a shot though.”

Joseph twisted round and slapped his shoulder, thankfully his right. “Cheeky kid. Come on, let’s go-”

“Wait!” Alex said, a thought had just struck him. He wasn’t going to be able to hide the needle he’d taken from the nurse. There were too many cameras and he wasn’t going straight to his room. The nurse might be deep in Anatolievich’s pocket but he knew that Joseph wasn’t. “This is going to sound really strange.” he said quickly, “but would you look after something for me?” 

“What, like a houseplant?” Joseph joked. He caught the look on Alex’s face and sobered up, “it’s nothing dangerous is it?”

Alex shifted a confused expression onto his face, “Why would it be something dangerous?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who gassed your school.”

“Alright, so I don’t have the best track record.” Alex snapped, then in a softer voice, “It’s not dangerous okay?”

Joseph nodded. 

“It’s in my sling,” He explained, maneuvering round in his seat, “can you get it?” 

Joseph looked mystified but did as he was asked, eventually managing to locate and pull out the needle. He slowly looked up and gazed at Alex with a mix between bewilderment and concern. 

“Kid, what’s this?”

“I don’t know.” Alex said truthfully. Joseph raised his eyebrows and he elaborated, “It makes you sleep.” 

“Excuse me? Kid, I don’t know if I want to get involved-”

“Just-” Alex struggled to come up with a convincing lie. “Just, please.” he ended lamely.

Joseph looked like he was having misgivings. Finally, he relented. “Alright,” he nodded, “If you swear it's nothing dangerous or harmful.”

“It’s not.” 

Joseph’s lips pressed into a tight line and he stared at Alex for a couple of while, considering. Eventually, he opened his suit jacket with one hand and inserted the needle into the inside pocket with the other, not letting Alex’s gaze drop for a second.

“Thank you.” Alex said sincerely. 

“Alright, now we best get in,” Joseph said, opening the drivers door. “we can’t keep Nurse Ratched waiting.”

Brad was shaking. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He slid to the floor in the corridor and felt the floor vibrate as people came running. The fire bell rang out loudly above his head and he knew he should move. The only problem was that his legs seemed to have turned into Jell-O.

“MR COACHES!” It was Principal Vardy. 

He looked up from the floor, “Yes, sir?”

“What’s going on here?” he demanded, “Get out into the yard with the rest of your class. Get out now, it’s not safe!”

Brad scrambled to his feet as best he could and nodded, walking shakily down the corridor. He could feel the weight of his phone in his pockets, it felt heavier than usual. Was that because what was on it? Was he the only one who knew the truth or what was happening? He’d found the phone lying where he’d left it in an empty classroom; Sabina and the substitute teacher nowhere to be seen. He’d listened to the recording or their conversation and almost fainted. The man has threatened to hurt Sabina several times and eventually she’d called him out on it, saying that Alex wouldn’t forgive him.

Sabina hadn’t mentioned his name, but she’d thought him dead and the man knew Lieutenant Stanley, the guy who had been bleeding out in the Pleasure’s sitting room that morning. He must be the russian that had broken out of prison with Stanley, the one who wanted revenge on Alex for getting Gregorovitch killed. Or could this man be Gregorovitch? Sabina had thought he was dead after all and it definitely could have been the name he’d heard the Delta Force unit shouting. 

He’d decided what he was going to do as he was already doing it. It was clear that Gregorovitch and Sabina weren’t going to be able to flee without either the Delta Force unit hurting them, or more likely, Gregorovitch hurting the unit. He’d turned on all the gas taps at the far end of the chemistry lab, waited and then thrown his lighter as far as he could into the room and then legged it down the corridor. He hoped no one had been hurt. He hadn’t realised there had been someone on the roof. 

He filed out of the building with the rest of the students, hoping that his guilty face didn’t give him away. There were sirens in the distance and he swallowed thickly. He hoped Sabina was going to be alright. He turned to look at the school, the upper chemistry lab window had been blown out and half the tiles which had been on the roof were now smashed on the concrete. A part of him felt guilty, the rest of him felt cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Another chapter!
> 
> Sorry it's a bit short, I've been a bit sad. But anyway, we're back baby.
> 
> Okay, so not loads happened in this chapter I admit, but it means that more can happen next chapter. I thought people would want this now rather than wait even longer for the next chapter, so, enjoy! There's a story behind one of the names of Z unit. Props to you if you spot it. It'll be explained anyway but just a fun game I suppose. 
> 
> Also Brad did something cool for once, he wasn't a dweeb and he Alex Ridered that situation up. I'm also so so pumped for this Sab and Yassen road trip. 
> 
> I also realised I got super excited that Lincoln high did actually exist in real life (after doing no research on the area they live in) but I should have just read Never Say Die because it says the name of their freakin school. Oh well. 
> 
> And dudes, my crush has read Alex Rider and he's just watched the TV show and loves it. He isn't as obsessed but it's a start and it made my day so I thought I'd share. 
> 
> WE'RE GETTING ANOTHER SEASON OF THE SHOW FOLKS ISN'T THAT SPECTACULAR?!  
> Yes, yes it is. 
> 
> I really hope it follows the story line of Skeleton Key because I want Alex's meeting with Byrne, Turner and Troy and if they don't include this scene I will fight someone:
> 
> "How was the flight?" Troy asked. And then, before Alex could answer, "I guess it must have been scary. Travelling on your own"
> 
> "I had to close my eyes during take off," Alex said, "But I stopped trembling when we got to thirty-five thousand feet." 
> 
> It's honestly one of my favourite ever Alex moments, and there's quite a few to choose from. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Please give me feedback and stuff, it genuinely helps. 
> 
> TTFN!


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